


The Will of the Force, and of the Prophets

by sophiegaladheon



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe, Basically a Kira Nerys Bajoran Resistance Backstory, But with More Lightsabers, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Pre-Canon, Star Wars AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-09-21 11:04:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9545654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiegaladheon/pseuds/sophiegaladheon
Summary: Kira Nerys is spending a miserable winter with the Shakaar Resistance Cell hiding out in caves in the Dahkur Hills.  She's cold, hungry, and out of ammunition, and now she's on the run.  Oh, and did I mention the Sith?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> After seeing [this post](http://sophiegaladheon.tumblr.com/post/153736784817/grunkling-i-cant-get-over-how-much-it-looks) on tumblr I decided Kira Nerys and DS9 meets Star Wars needed to be a thing. So, yeah. It's basically the Star Trek universe, but with Jedi and Sith and lightsabers and droids. Because why not.

Kira Nerys first fired a phaser rifle in combat when she was thirteen years old. She never gave much thought to her choice of weapon, because, of course, there was no choice. In the resistance you fought with what you had, and phasers of all designs were plentiful on occupied Bajor, if you knew where to look. So the use of a phaser rifle, by Kira or anyone else on either side of the conflict, wasn’t thought of as out of the ordinary in the slightest. It wasn’t thought of at all, in fact. Until, of course, it was. Because the use of, and reliance on, a phaser rifle is the sort of thing you might think about when facing down a Cardassian Sith with a glowing red lightsaber.

The inadequacy of her phaser rifle was just one of the many things that struck Kira as she ran through the Dahkur cave system ahead of the advancing Cardassian with the lightsaber. Other concerns included _where the hell is Lupaza?_ and _since when did the Cardassians start deploying Sith as part of their occupation force?_ Of course, Kira latently thought, it wasn’t as if her phaser rifle would do her much good against too many regular, non-Force wielding Cardassians right now, given how low their supply of power packs had gotten in the last few months. Which left running. Fortunately, the past few month had provided ample time to memorize the layout of the cave system, and Kira swerved and dodged confidently around corners to throw off pursuit as she raced towards the centralized cave in which the resistance cell had set up its temporary headquarters. 

“Kira!” Ornak’s voice came from out of a side tunnel as Kira ran past. She doubled back, hopped over an empty crate, and crouched, panting, next to the younger fighter behind the insufficient cover of the crate and the cave wall. She checked the power supply of her phaser rifle and saw Ornak do the same. “Klin says they’ve found us,” said Ornak. His eyes flicked back to the tunnel Kira had just come from and he was gripping his phaser rifle so tightly Kira could see his knuckles turning white even in the nearly nonexistent illumination of the tunnels’ makeshift lighting system. “He says they’ve got the exits blocked and they’ll track us all down through the tunnels.”

Kira shook her head as she leaned up over the crate and peered up and down the tunnel. “Don’t listen to Klin,” she said, “He’s trying to scare you. Come on.” She grabbed Ornak’s arm and pulled him down the tunnel, further into the cave. “There’s no way they can know every exit to this place, it’s like a warren down here.” Kira slowed and stopped as they reached the next major intersection of tunnels, carefully checking for approaching Cardassians in all directions. Seeing the way clear she turned to Ornak. “We just have to find a clear exit before one of them gets to us.”

Ornak swallowed and nodded. “Right,” he said. He fiddled with the safety catch on his phaser rifle. A scuffling sound came from the connecting tunnel behind Kira and a broad silhouette rounded the corner and stumbled out of the darkness. Ornak started and raised his phaser rifle. The red-lightsaber-wielding specter of the Sith still lurking at the forefront of her mind, Kira spun around, dropped to one knee, and did the same.

“Woah, there,” said the figure, left hand raised and open, right hand raised and dangling a phaser rifle of Bajoran make, “It’s me.”

“Dammit, Furel,” said Kira, lowering her phaser rifle as she straightened. Ornak lowered his as well, slower.

“Sorry,” said Furel, smiling slightly. The tunnel he had emerged from was much narrower than the other two tunnels at the intersection and seemed to go off at a sharp angle into the wall. “I ran into a couple of our intruders and had to make a quick escape. My power pack’s out.”

Kira went to her belt and pulled out her final full power pack. “Here,” she said, handing it to Furel. “Where’s Lupaza?”

“Thanks,” he said, snapping the power pack into place. “I haven’t seen her since the attack started.” Furel cut himself off as the sound of heavy boot-steps and Cardassian voices came from down the tunnel Kira and Ornak had emerged from. 

He gestured for the two younger fighters to follow him and they crept down the intersecting tunnel in the direction of the cave’s living area. Not that anywhere in the caves was particularly more livable than any other part, being all cold, damp, and crawling with centipedes, but the living area was more open and cave-like than the tunnels that surrounded it and it was where the Shakaar resistance cell had set up their living quarters when they found themselves bunking down in the Dahkur Hills for the winter. Being deep inside the hills, it was also impervious to Cardassian sensor sweeps, although apparently not quite as secure as they had been lead to believe. _Dammit, how did they find us?_ Kira thought. 

As they wound their way through the tunnels, the dim glow of the lighting system went out. _Thank you, Mobara, it’s about time,_ thought Kira, silently giving thanks to both the Prophets and the resistance cell’s engineering specialist. The further decrease in visibility would hinder the Cardassian advance while increasing the resistance fighters’ cover. One of the advantages to spending all of your time in pitch dark caves with nothing to do and nothing to eat with the near constant threat of Cardassian detection was that the resistance fighters had quickly learned to find their way around the caves in the dark.

Once they were far enough away from the Cardassian troops, Furel continued. “I haven’t seen Lupaza since the attack started.” His whispered voice floated back to Kira and Ornak in the darkness. “But I know she was planning to go over intelligence reports with Shakaar this morning.” 

They continued on, winding their way through the darkened tunnels until they emerged in the cluttered cavern of the living area, the assortment of bedrolls and packs amorphous lumps in the dim light of a single lantern sitting on the central table. The room was empty except for a hunched figure hastily packing a bedroll in the far corner, and an astromech droid beside it.

“Mobara,” said Kira in the loudest whisper she could manage. The figure turned and Kira could see the startled face of the resistance cell’s engineer. The droid beeped softly in recognition. 

Mobara relaxed slightly and continued packing. “We have to get out of here,” he said, “We’re practically surrounded and the tunnels are crawling with Cardassians.”

“Have you seen any of the others?” asked Kira, moving to her own bedroll as Furel and Ornak did the same.

“Klin made a run through the east tunnels. I don’t know if he made it. Gantt and Lorit were out before the attack started. They went to see that farmer who offered us food to treat his arm. I think Shakaar and Lupaza are still here.”

Kira stood, shrugging on her pack. “Are there any exits left open?”

“I think the Iton River one should still be clear, we can get out by boat,” said Mobara as he finished tying up his pack and put it on. “R5 and I cut the lights, which should buy us a little more time, but we need to hurry.”

“Great,” said Kira “It figures.” With the heavy winter rains, the Iton was bursting its banks this time of year. 

“You all go ahead,” said Furel, “I’m going to go look for Lupaza and Shakaar.”

“But Furel,” said Ornak.

“Go,” he said, “We’ll meet up again when we can. Latha’s in Dahka, try and find him. He’ll have the contacts you need. Hurry.” Furel grabbed his pack and his phaser rifle and hurried back into the tunnel system. 

“Right,” said Mobara, “Let’s go.”

He led the way down a tunnel the opposite direction from the one Furel had taken, closely followed by R5. Kira and Ornak hurried after them. Their eyes adjusted back to the total darkness of the tunnels and the only sounds they heard were their own breathing and the soft shuffle of their boots on the dirt floor. They reached a major intersection of tunnels and Mobara halted. 

“Not much further,” he said softly.

Kira nodded. “East or west route?” she asked.

“West, it’s faster.” 

They crept forward across the intersection of tunnels. A light shone from down the tunnel they were crossing, illuminating the group. Kira flinched as the sudden change brightness hurt her eyes but she reflexively raised her phaser rifle to fire at the light source. R5 shrieked and hurried down the western route of the tunnels.

“Split up,” said Mobara, shouting as he too opened fire on the light.

Kira saw, vaguely as her vision began to return to normal, that Mobara had followed R5 and taken the west route towards the exit. Grabbing Ornak, who was still shooting, by the arm, Kira ran towards the eastern route tunnel and the two of them ducked inside it just as the Cardassian troops, whom they apparently had caught off guard, began to fire back, their phasers hitting the tunnel walls above Kira and Ornak’s ducked heads.

Running down the tunnel once again blind from the sudden lighting change, Kira took the first three turns in their course without stopping before she came to a halt, pressed up against the tunnel wall trying to catch her breath as quietly as she could, her pack sandwiched uncomfortably between her and the wall. Ornak stumbled into her before settling himself against the wall as well. They were close to the exit, only just around the corner, so a bit of light filtered down the tunnel.

“Okay, we have to get moving,” said Kira after a minute. “The exit’s just around the corner, and with any luck so is Mobara.”

“What then?” asked Ornak.

“Then we get down to the river, hope the boat hasn’t been washed away in the bad weather, and get the hell out of here.”

“But then what?” asked Ornak again.

Kira turned to snap in exasperation at the persistent questions, this was not the time. She stopped herself when she got a look at him in the dim light of the tunnel. His jaw was clenched, shoulders tight, eyes wide. He was clearly trying to stop his hands from shaking and to keep them steady on his phaser rifle. At fifteen he wasn't that much younger than Kira but he had been with the Shakaar resistance cell for less than six months and most of that had been spent sitting in damp tunnels hiding from sensor sweeps, not fighting. She sighed and squeezed his shoulder. She was practically ancient by comparison. 

“Okay,” said Kira, “This is what is going to happen. We are going to get out of here. Then we are going to find something to eat. And then we are going to find everyone else. And everything is going to be okay.” The final platitude nearly caught in her throat, but she carried on. “Do you understand?”

Ornak nodded and steadied himself. Kira had to force back a sigh. He had actually believed that. Prophets help her, he really was green.

“Let’s go,” she said, and they continued, slower this time, down the tunnel. At the end, Kira cautiously peered around the corner only to see Mobara standing by the exit tunnel, phaser rifle at the ready, R5 scanning the approaches. “Mobara,” she said softly, hurrying around the corner towards him. 

He turned, looking both at them and past them down the tunnel. “Were you followed?”

“I think we shook them for now, but we need to hurry,” said Kira.

Mobara nodded and headed down the tunnel towards the exit, followed closely by R5. The exit tunnel was another small tunnel, barely tall enough to stand up straight in and hardly wide enough for one person to walk through at a time. _It’s a good thing Furel didn’t come this way,_ Kira thought wryly, _he’d have to hold his breath the entire time._

“That’s it?” asked Ornak as Mobara disappeared down the small passage, blocking out the light from the outside.

“Yes, go, you’re next,” said Kira, checking up and down the tunnel for any incoming Cardassians. “Go, I’ll be right behind you.”

“But-,” Ornak stopped and took a deep breath. “Okay,” he said and squeezed into the tunnel. 

With one final check that the tunnel she was leaving was clear, Kira followed him. The exit tunnel was only about eight feet long, but once it reached the outside there was a sharp six-foot drop to the riverbank below. As they reached the tunnel opening, Kira saw that Mobara had already maneuvered the ladder which was stored in the tunnel into place, climbed down, and gotten R5 down as well. 

Ornak stopped in the opening. “How am I supposed to get down?”

“Use the ladder,” Kira said.

“But I’m facing the wrong way.”

“Go down the wrong way until you’re outside enough to turn around. You can do it, see, Mobara did it with R5. Hurry, you’re exposed to the treeline.” Kira felt Ornak tense and she guessed he was eyeing the line of trees on the opposite bank of the river. “Go.”

Ornak gingerly, carefully, and very, very, slowly began to climb down the ladder. As soon as the top two rungs were clear, Kira followed him. The base of the ladder was set on a small sloped semicircle of land, covered in scrub brushes. The winter rainstorms had pushed the Iton River over its banks and the semicircle of land surrounded by water and cliffs the group was standing on was normally a continuous riverbank. Instead, they were now surrounded on three sides by torrents of rushing water. R5 was waiting up against the cliff face at the foot of the ladder, staying as far away as possible from the river. Mobara was busy manhandling a small rowboat out from underneath the cover of some tarps and plant-matter camouflage. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” said Kira as she moved to help him.

“We're going to take that on there?” asked Ornak. Kira turned to see him staring at the rough, swollen waters of the Iton River. Wood and other debris rushed past in the current.

“Well, unless you want to take your chances back in the tunnels with the Cardassians,” she said with a frown and a shrug. 

“Ornak,” said Mobara, “Pull down the ladder. Then help us with the boat.”

Ornak tipped the ladder over, then shoved it into the river and it was swept away. “If they want to come after us from the caves, now they’ll have to jump,” he said.

The three of them pushed the boat to the edge of the river and turned it over. Kira went back to the pile of camouflage and pulled out the pair of oars and the fishing pole and tackle box that had been hidden underneath. They threw their packs, the fishing pole and tackle box, and the oars into the boat, followed by a disgruntled R5. They then pushed it about halfway into the water.

“Okay, you two in,” said Mobara, “I don’t want to risk losing it by pushing it in any further. I’ll launch.”

Kira and Ornak hopped into the boat and each grabbed an oar. “You take the stern,” Kira said to Ornak, “I’ll take the bow.”

Mobara pushed against the bow of the boat, inching it backward into the water until it was caught by the current and he fell forwards into the river and nearly lost hold. Kira grabbed him by the forearms and dragged him into the boat as they were both drenched in icy river water.

“Are you two alright?” asked Ornak from the stern.

“I’m fine,” said Kira.

“Fine,” said Mobara, shaking and curled in the puddle in the bottom of the center of the boat next to R5, who was anxiously shaking Mobara’s collar and making distressed sounds. “I’m fine, buddy,” Mobara said softly, patting the droid.

“Right,” said Kira, “You still have your oar?” The wind blew the hair loosened from her braid into her eyes as they shot down the river at a considerable pace.

“Yes.” Ornak held it up.

“Good. Because now we have to try and steer.”

“What?”

“Push off rocks so we don’t hit them. Try and keep us in the middle of the river.”

“Okay, got it.” 

The demands of avoiding large rocks, tree branches, and other debris meant that Kira and Ornak’s attentions were completely engaged for some time. Mobara soon recovered somewhat from the shock of his plunge into the frigid waters and was able to help spot oncoming threats. After about an hour the demands of the river lessened somewhat and Kira took a moment to look around.

“We’re slowing down,” said Mobara through chattering teeth.

“Uh-huh,” said Ornak, “The river’s getting wider too.”

“We should probably get to shore,” said Kira, “We’re almost out of the hills by now and Mobara’s going to catch hypothermia if he doesn’t dry off.”

“You too,” said Mobara.

Slowly, inefficiently, they paddled to the shore. Kira hopped out first and dragged the boat up onto the embankment. After helping R5 out of the boat, unloading the gear, pressuring Mobara to change into some (semi) dry clothes, setting the rest of the gear out to dry, and inventorying the state of the phaser rifles (not good), Kira herself changed into a set of (semi) dry clothes and scrounged around for a ration bar before sitting down next to Mobara with her back against the boat.

“Where did you get that?” he asked.

“It was in the tackle box. Who knows how old it is, but no sense in wasting it.” She peeled open the wrapper, broke the bar into three pieces and handed one each to Mobara and Ornak.

“So what now?” asked Ornak.

“Tonight we get some rest,” said Mobara. 

Kira looked at the sky. It was getting dark. The back of her neck itched. After so many months hiding in caves the open sightlines of the riverbank felt outrageously exposed and the image of the Sith had followed her like a threat all the way from the caves. “And tomorrow,” she said, “We try and make contact with the rest of the cell and head to Dahka and find Latha.” 

“And then what?”

“And then we figure it out,” said Kira.

“Okay,” said Ornak, his voice quieter this time.

“Okay, look,” said Kira, “I get that you have questions, I get that you’re worried. I have questions. I’m worried. Did Lupaza and Turel and Shakaar get out? Where are Gantt and Loritt? How did the Cardassians find us? Since when do the Cardassians have Sith on Bajor? But I don’t know the answers right now. All we can do is trust in the Prophets, keep moving forwards, and hope things will work out eventually.”

They were all quiet for a long moment. “What do you mean, Sith on Bajor?” asked Mobara.

“In the tunnels,” said Kira, “The Cardassians, they had a Sith with them. Didn’t either of you see him?”

“Nope.”

“No,” said Mobara. “Are you sure it was a Sith? What did he look like?”

“Tall, Cardassian. _Red lightsaber._ Yes, I’m sure.”

“Humph. Well.” Mobara took a long breath. “That’s definitely something resistance intelligence will want to know.”

“What do you mean?” Kira turned slightly to look at the engineer. “Do you know something about Sith being here?” she asked.

“No, nothing now.” Mobara shook his head. “But they do say that in the early days of the occupation Sith of the Obsidian Order were sent to Bajor as part of the Cardassian suppression efforts. If they're back, it must mean something’s up.”

“Something bad,” said Kira.

“Something really bad,” said Ornak.

“Something to deal with in the morning,” said Mobara, “I’ll take first watch. You two get some sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm going to try and have a new chapter up at least every two weeks, so we'll see how that goes.
> 
> If you're wondering who all these Bajorans you've never heard of are, you can check out the [Shakaar Resistance Cell page on Memory Alpha](http://memory-alpha.wikia.com/wiki/Shakaar_resistance_cell). That's where I got most of my info from, even though it's pretty sparse. There is surprisingly little canon information on the Shakaar resistance cell and its members.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kira and company hike through the Dahkur hills, avoid the Cardassians, look for something to eat, and make a new friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! An update! Yeah, that took longer than expected. Sorry about that. Anyway, here's the next bit.

Kira woke before dawn, a thin line of sunlight just creeping over the edge of the hilltops. Heart pounding, the shadowed Cardassian silhouette and the dull glow of a red lightsaber of her suddenly dispersed dream still played through her mind as she sat upright and surveyed the makeshift camp in the dim light. She inhaled deeply through her nose, letting the riverbank smells of damp dirt and rotting vegetation ground her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t normally have nightmares, she reminded herself, this one was just the same as all the others, no matter how real it felt.

Mobara was still asleep, as she should be, but Kira saw that Ornak was awake, having taken the last watch of the night. She stood, folded her blanket, and walked over to him.

“Anything?” she asked.

“No,” said Ornak, “It’s been quiet.”

Kira nodded. This area of the Dahkur hills was largely uninhabited. Most of the farmers had been relocated to refugee camps decades ago as the Cardassians appropriated their farmsteads and converted them into large, industrial, slave-labor operations. There was little reason for a Cardassian patrol to pass by, and smaller still the chance that they would be spotted by any Bajoran civilians.

“We should start packing up,” Kira said softly, “We’ll want to be on the move before sunrise.”

Ornak nodded and moved towards his pack. After checking on the phaser rifles, which had dried out nicely, Kira headed over to the tackle box, which had also suffered considerable water damage and been left to dry along with the rest of the equipment. Unfortunately, the tackle box was not, in fact, a tackle box, which would have been simple to dry and largely unharmed by proximity to water. It was instead a small, short range transmitter disguised as a tackle box. It opened up to reveal a tray of fishing accouterments and, as Kira had discovered to her relief the night prior, several very old ration bars. Underneath the tray lay the transmitter mechanism. The unfortunate part lay in the large crack in the bottom of the box casing, which had allowed water to seep into the electronics. Kira picked up the box and examined it to see if there was any chance of salvaging the transmitter.

“Is it fixable?” asked Ornak, walking over with a partially folded spare shirt in his hands.

Kira looked up at him and shook her head. “It doesn’t look like it,” she said, “I think it was more the flooding that got to it than the trip down-river. It’s been sitting in water a while. But Mobara’ll look at it when he gets up, he might be able to give us a miracle.”

Mobara did look at the transmitter when he got up, only a short while later, and he pronounced it unfixable.

“All right,” said Kira, “Looks like we’ll have to track everyone down the old fashioned way then.”

They left the boat on the shore where they beached it the night before. The Iton River curled away from Dahka, and they were going to have to walk the rest of the way. They shouldered their packs, picked up their phaser rifles, and struck out across the sloping Dahkur foothills, quiet silhouettes in the creeping, pre-dawn light. Mobara and R5 took the lead, with Kira and Ornak following behind.

“How far is it to Dahka from here?” asked Ornak.

“If we were to go the fastest route, and as quickly as possible? Probably two and a half, three days,” said Kira. Sunlight was just beginning to creep over the hills and long shadows were starting to stretch out in front of them. “But it will probably take us at least a week, maybe more.”

“Why?”

“If we have to dodge patrols, avoid sensor sweeps, that’ll take longer. And,” she said, “We need food.”

“So, farmers and towns then?” asked Ornak, “Isn’t that risky?”

“Yes, but do you see any other options?” Kira gestured at the barren scrubland of the Dakhur hills surrounding them. “Sure we’ll have to deal with the threat of Cardassian patrols and collaborators, but it’s better than starving to death.”

Ornak nodded. “I suppose. But only if we don’t get caught."

It was nearly mid-day when they reached the first inhabited dwellings, a small farming settlement. Barely more than a dozen or so buildings clustered together around a single dirt road and surrounded by a few small cultivated fields. As they approached Kira could see a few Bajorans among the buildings. She slung the strap of her phaser rifle over her shoulder and pushed the weapon behind her. There was no way to truly hide it, but at least she could make her intentions of nonviolence as clear as she could. The party entered the settlement, splitting up as Kira and Ornak headed down the lefthand side of the street, Mobara and R5 the left.

“Excuse me,” Kira said as she approached the closest farmer, a rather short, middle-aged man in a wide-brimmed straw hat. The man turned from the machinery he was repairing and looked Kira and Ornak over, scowling as he noted their weapons.

“Look, just leave,” the man said, “We don’t want any trouble and we don’t have anything you’d want, so just leave and let us alone, why don’t you.”

“What do you mean by that,” said Ornak, voice rising in indignation, “You don’t even know us. We’re just looking for something to eat.”

The man's scowl deepened. “I don’t have to know you. Either you come here and you take what you want, not that we have any extra to share, or you cause trouble and we get caught in the crossfire, or you cause trouble and we get punished because the damn Cardassians can’t get at you. Just leave, now, before you bring down any more misery on our heads.” He turned, slammed the maintenance hatch shut, and hurried away, ducking into one of the buildings.

Ornak turned to Kira, eyes wide. “What was that?” he asked. “Don’t these people know how important it is, what we do?”

Kira sighed even as a frown wrinkled her forehead. She looked up and down the street to see the scattering of locals who had overheard Ornak’s outburst scowling at them. “Hush, Ornak,” she said quietly, “Keep your voice down. Not everyone is willing to stand up for what they believe in. And some people don’t care about what’s right.” Kira paused for a moment. “And yes, some of the resistance groups are not as, well, _considerate_ of civilians as they should be."

“But that’s-” Ornak’s words were cut off by the sound of a shriek from R5. Kira turned, her attention refocusing on the droid and Mobara across the street as R5 beeped angrily at another man. She and Ornak hurriedly crossed to the group.

“No, no, I’m sorry,” the man was saying, his hands waving in front of him at R5 in a nervous, vaguely defensive, placating gesture, “That’s not what I meant at all. I apologize if I caused offense.”

Kira frowned. The man's accent was unusual, his speech pattern excessively formal, and his skin-tone several shades darker than what was usual for this part of Bajor. Whoever he was, he was unlikely to be a local which, in this area, in a town this size, was in and of itself suspicious.

“I was merely hoping you might have some information which would help me find my friend,” said the man talking very fast. He noticed Kira and Ornak as they settled in next to Mobara and R5. “As I was telling your friends here, I noticed that you were not from around here- Oh my!” The man jumped back slightly as R5 let out another shriek and lurched towards him. Mobara lay a restraining hand on the droid and it quieted.

“You were saying?” asked Kira.

“Ah, well, um, yes,” said the man, still eyeing R5 suspiciously, “Well I noticed you weren’t from this town and since no one here could help me I thought maybe you could.” He shifted back and forth on his feet, looking over the opposing group. Almost as an afterthought, his mouth stretched into a wide smile. “Oh!” he said, sticking out his hand, “My name is Paska Elo.”

Mobara hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. “I’m Daarza Sor,” he gestured at Kira and Ornak, “And these are my friends, Cepel Hesa and Nonyo Yiltrom. And you’ve already met R5.” He gave the droid another affectionate pat.

Paska’s smile stretched wider. “Pleasure to meet you Daarza.” He nodded at Kira and Ornak. “Cepel. Nonyo.” He looked over at R5. “R5. I’m sorry for our earlier misunderstanding.”

R5 beeped at him, annoyed.

“So now that we have the introductions over with, shall we go inside?” asked Mobara, gesturing at the building the group was standing in front of. Kira took a moment to examine it and she saw it was a sort of small commissary, which featured both shelves—mostly empty—for dry goods and a small section over to one side which contained several tables and claimed to offer drinks and snacks, if the menu boards on the wall were any indication, although the bare shelving would indicate otherwise. The group sat down at one of the tables.

“So,” said Kira, “Who is it you’re looking for?”

“Well,” said Paska, “A friend of mine. His name’s Zarpam Hakom. About five eight, five nine. Balding. We were traveling together and we got separated. We were in Dahka when he went missing, but we were headed out this way, so I thought I’d try here as well and I’ve been looking, here and in Dahka, but I can’t find any sign of him and no one seems to know anything.”

Kira glanced over at Mobara, then over at Ornak. _Headed out into the Dahkur hills?_ Why in the name of the Prophets would a couple of strangers be just wandering around the Dahkur hills? No one came to the Dahkur hills to sightsee. The farmers were here because it was their home and they would stay until they were forced to leave. The Cardassians were there because they wanted the resources hidden in the ground. The slave laborers were there because they didn’t have any other choice. And the resistance fighters were there because the Cardassians were there, and because the hills provided good cover and plentiful places to hide. But no one wandered through the region just _because_. Doing so was a good way to get yourself press-ganged into forced labor, or killed.

“So, you’re not local? You’re just passing through?” asked Ornak.

“Oh, no, no, we’re not local,” said Paska, “Just passing through. Really. But if you have any information on his whereabouts I would greatly appreciate it.”

Kira shared another glance with Mobara before leaning forward on the table and staring hard across at Paska. “Look,” she said, “I admire your optimism, but you’re not going to find your friend.” Paska frowned and started to protest but Kira cut him off. “You said he was in Dahka when he went missing?"

Paska nodded. “Yes, or just outside it most likely.”

“Right. If someone disappeared from that area, someone noticeable, a stranger, and someone who wasn’t making any special effort not to be found, the only way you’d be able to go weeks without hearing anything of him is if the Cardassians have him. Your friend’s in prison or in a labor camp or dead now.” Kira paused for a minute then said, softer, “I’m sorry.”

Paska shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He looked very young to Kira. _He must be around my age_ , she thought, _how has this man lived through the occupation and not figured out its reality?_

“Thank you for your advice,” he said finally. He seemed to choose his words carefully. “I will take it under consideration, especially given your experience and superior knowledge of the local environment.”

The table descended into a tense silence which was only interrupted when a late-model service droid finally approached the group and asked if they were going to order. Kira, Mobara, and Ornak dug into their packs and pulled out what little currency they had. Their collective chips made a pathetically small pile on the table. _No wonder so many cells turn to theft and intimidation_ , thought Kira.

“Ah, do you take lek?” Kira asked the droid, eyeing the hodgepodge of currency.

“Yes.”

“Okay then,” said Mobara, tallying up their combined purchasing power before looking up at the menu board, “We’ll have-”

He was cut off at the hiss of the store’s door and an angry shout of “Hey! You!” They turned to see a young man in farmer’s coveralls striding towards them. “You lot. You need to leave now,” he said, “A Cardassian patrol is headed this way and you can’t be found here.”

The group stood, scraping their currency back into their bags and shouldering their weapons. “Where do we go now?” asked Ornak as they were hurried out the back of the store by the service droid and a harried looking woman Kira presumed to be the proprietor.

“Back into the hills,” said Mobara, “Find some cover then keep moving. Damn Cardassians, right when we were about to get something to eat."

Once they were out of the store the group struck immediately for the cover of the hills.

“I wish we didn’t have to run,” said Ornak, almost under his breath, “It’s hardly a resistance if all we do is run and hide.”

“Yeah, well, there won’t be a resistance at all if we all get killed,” said Kira, “And I don’t know about you, but my phaser is almost out of power. So that makes things a bit more difficult as well. It’s not just about fighting back, we have to be smart about it. And sometimes,” Kira’s face twisted into a frown, “That means running away.”

“Excellent point, Cepel,” said Paska, behind her.

Kira started and glanced back at the man as they ran. Ornak stumbled in surprise, blurting out “What are you doing here?”

“We were told to leave, remember?”

“They meant us, not you.”

“They meant anyone who would draw undue attention from the Cardassians, which is me as well as you.”

“But why are you still with us?”

“You seem to know what you’re doing, which is always beneficial in traveling companions.”

“We’re not you’re traveling companions. And that’s not an answer.”

“Yes, well, I do have a cave which I have been staying in which is also in this direction which I was planning on hiding from the Cardassians in. You all are welcome too, of course.”

This time Kira pulled up to a full stop. “What?”

“I know a place to hide. Do you want to come?” asked Paska again.

Ornak, Mobara, and R5 had all stopped as well and were now standing close enough to hear Paska’s offer. Kira looked past Paska at her friends. Ornak looked hopeful, Mobara suspicious. _If something sounds too good to be true . . ._ she thought, _but then again we do need to get under cover soon before that Cardassian patrol has a chance to run a sensor sweep of this area_. And something was telling her to trust Paska. She didn’t know what it was, it certainly wasn’t common sense.

Kira took a deep breath. _Prophets help me_. “Where is it?” she asked.

Paska grinned. “This way. I’ll show you.” He set off running, the trio of resistance fighters and their droid in tow.

“This is a bad idea,” Mobara said quietly to Kira as they ran.

“I know.

“It’s not like you to be this reckless. Impulsive, perhaps. But this, this is a big risk.”

Kira stopped again and Mobara halted beside her. She wiped the sweat on her cheeks and forehead with her sleeve. “I know,” she said, breathing heavily, “I know it’s a risk. But it’s one I think we have to take right now. It’s not as if we have a lot of choice. And I think we can trust him.”

Mobara arched an eyebrow at her.

“Just a gut feeling. I know it doesn’t make sense, I know logic says it’s risky as hell, but I feel like we can trust him. At least in this.” Kira modified.

Mobara nodded. “All right. We’ll go with your gut on this one.” He started jogging after the quickly receding figures ahead of them and Kira followed.

The cave Paska led them to was far smaller and shallower than the system of tunnels the resistance had been using as a base. It was really only one large room, with a low ceiling and damp walls. But the stone would help deflect the Cardassian sensors, and, as the resistance fighters discovered to their delight, there was food.

“Only ration packs, I’m afraid,” Paska said apologetically.

“I have no problem with that whatsoever,” said Mobara.

“Neither do I,” said Kira, keenly eyeing the foil-wrapped packets Paska was pulling out of the pack he had secured in the cave.

“Food!” said Ornak, rushing forward to grab one.

Mobara chuckled. “Well, that settles that, then,” as he and Kira both grabbed ration packs for themselves. He looked over at Kira and murmured “Maybe we should go with your gut more often.” Kira rolled her eyes.

Kira turned to Paska. “Thank you for your generosity. May the Prophets smile on you for your kindness.”

Paska smiled slightly. “Ah, you’re welcome. I’m happy I could be of assistance.”

And with that Kira joined her comrades, sat down, and tucked into her first square meal in months, fervently praying the Cardassians would at least hold off on finding them until after she had time to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. I know this chapter was somewhat filler, but it's important filler. We're back to exciting stuff next chapter. But hey, at least Kira and friends finally got a decent meal. I was getting worried for them.
> 
> Note: The lek is Cardassian currency. According to Memory Alpha, Bajoran currency is called the lita, but that was issued by the provisional government after the occupation. I couldn't find any information on what currency was used on Bajor either before or during the occupation, so I went with the assumption that it would be a mix of pre-occupation currency, Cardassian currency, currency issued by the occupation-era Bajoran authorities, and generally whatever anyone would accept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long road to Dahka. And that road is covered in Cardassians.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things are getting a bit darker, so I modified the rating to be safe. It shouldn't get any higher than this, though.

The cave in which Paska had set up his makeshift camp was suitable for a temporary hideout, but Kira knew that they could not remain sheltered there for long. Any in-depth sensor sweep or astute Cardassian patrol would find them in short order, and so her first task the first morning after her group had taken up residence in the cave was to convince Paska to decamp. 

“Look, I appreciate your concern, but I just can’t leave,” said Paska, “I haven’t found my friend yet.”

“And you won’t find him if you stay here,” argued Kira. “Look, like I said before, where ever this person you’re looking for is, he’s not out in the Dahkur hills or people would have noticed. The only people you’re going to find if you stay out here are the Cardassians, and that’s going to end up with you dead, or in prison, forced labor if you’re lucky. Of course,” she added, “That may help you find your friend, given where he’s probably ended up, but I don’t think those are the kind of circumstances you are hoping for.”

That earned her a scowl from Paska and a laugh from the Ornak. Kira looked over at the other resistance fighter. Ornak sat with Mobara and R5, pouring over a holomap of the region R5 was projecting, examining alternate routes to Dahka.

“How is it coming?” she asked.

“There are a couple of possibilities,” said Mobara, still squinting at the hologram. “This part of the hills has more Cardassian sensor monitoring and foot patrols than most, given the proximity to some of the larger labor camps. If we go the more direct route we’ll risk running into patrols the better armed and more heavily guarded outposts. Of course, our other option is to backtrack past the settlement from yesterday,” he paused, indicating the path on the holomap, “and take a circuitous route around the outposts and main patrol routes.” He again indicated the path on the holo. “Now, that option, of course, would add several days, maybe a week to the journey and would likely involve avoiding all major settlements.” 

“So no great options, then,” said Kira.

“Nope,” said Ornak, “One way we get captured or shot, the other takes forever and we likely starve before we get to Dahka.”

“Well you’re pessimistic,” said Paska, crouching down next to the holomap. “If you’re so certain these plans of yours won’t work, why don’t you just stay here instead? I have plenty of space.” He gestured around at the cave with a grin.

Kira sighed. “Because staying in this cave is not a long term option. If we stay the Cardassians will find us, if we move there is also the chance they will find us but we’ll have better odds.” She turned to look at Paska squarely. “If you stay here they will find you too.”

He shrugged. “I’ll take my chances. I’ve made it this far.”

“Yes, and I can’t figure out if that’s been a matter of skill or the blessings of the Prophets,” said Kira. She hadn't seen any evidence of the former so it was probably the latter, but the sheer amount of good fortune the Prophets would have to heap on the naive man in front of her to prevent him getting captured or killed wandering around the Dahkur hills simply boggled the mind. 

Paska just smiled and nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment.

“And anyway,” said Ornak, “We have friends we’re looking for too. We know where they are, though, it’s just the question of getting to them.” 

“Very well then,” said Paska, standing and brushing off his trousers, “If I can’t convince you to stay can I at least offer you some provisions for you trip?”

Kira frowned as Paska walked over to one of the bags and began pulling out ration packs. “Now, I’m not one to turn down an offer of food, but, don’t you need those?” she asked.

Paska turned back and smiled. “It’s quite alright, Cepel, I have more than enough to share.”

“Then, we thank you for your generosity,” she said and looked over at Mobara and Ornak who echoed her thanks.

Kira’s forehead wrinkled as she accepted the ration packs. Generosity was a valued trait amongst Bajorans, but with the privations of the occupation unsolicited and apparently unwarranted displays were definitely suspect. Not to mention, even after only knowing him for a day, Kira could definitely say that Paska Elo smiled more than anyone she had ever met. 

The resistance fighters set off within the hour accompanied by Paska’s well wishes if not the man himself. They retraced their route from the day before, until they could see the small farming settlement in the distance. Keeping to the protection of the crags and gullies of the lesser traveled higher elevation areas of the hill scape, the group took a wide arc around the cluster of buildings and cultivated fields before heading on a path that, they hoped, would take them to Dahka with minimal Cardassian interference. 

“Do you think Paska will be alright?” asked Ornak as they hiked down a particularly steep stretch of the path. “I mean, he’s all alone out here, and he doesn’t really seem to know what he’s doing, you know, in a practical sense.” 

“Well,” said Kira, reaching out to steady Ornak as he slid slightly on the incline, “We offered him the choice to come with us and he decided to stay. That was his decision. We did what we could. And he is very well equipped.”

“Yes, he’s got plenty of food,” said Ornak, “But that’s not what I meant. Couldn’t you tell, he’s really, he didn’t know stuff he should have known. Like about the Cardassians, or about Dahkur province. It was weird.” 

Kira was silent for a moment. So Ornak picked up on it as well. Then again, she should have expected him to notice something was off, he might be young but he wasn’t stupid. 

“Yes,” she said, “There was something off about him. He clearly wasn't a local and whatever he’s doing here he clearly wasn’t telling us the whole story. And that’s understandable, I’d be more surprised if he did tell us everything, we weren’t entirely honest with him ourselves.” She paused, thinking over the phrasing of her next words. “Whoever he is, he has made it this far. He should have as much of a chance as anyone on his own going forward.” There, hopefully that would satisfy Ornak’s conscience. 

Ornak seemed to puzzle over this speech for a moment. “Whoever he is?” he asked finally, “What do you mean? Who do you-”

He was cut off by a loud hush from Mobara, who had stopped a few feet ahead of Kira and Ornak and gestured for them to do the same. They drew up behind him and R5, crouching down to carefully creep up and peer over the next ridge. Below Kira could see a small Cardassian encampment, perhaps no more than a dozen soldiers, up against the base of the far cliff. The soldiers were standing, almost casually, looking in the direction of the resistance fighters. However, none of them seemed to have reacted to their appearance. 

“Did they see us?” asked Ornak, his voice a frantic whisper.

“I don’t know, I don’t think so,” said Mobara, much calmer though still noticeably tense, “No one seems to have raised the alarm. But I don’t see how they could have missed us, they’re looking right at us.”

“They look like they’re waiting for something,” said Kira. The three of them shifted tensely. Even R5 seemed nervous.

“So what now?” Ornak asked finally, “We can’t go this way.

“Well, we can backtrack and try and go around them,” said Kira, “And hope they haven’t set up perimeter alarms. Although,” she added, “If we got this close without tripping the alarm they probably don’t have them, or they’re rubbish.”

“Right,” said Mobara, “If we backtrack to-”

“Freeze! Drop your weapons!”

The group started, turning to see a lone Cardassian soldier, standing on a bluff about ten yards away, pointing a phaser rifle at them. All parties remained frozen in a startled tableau for what was probably only a few seconds but to Kira felt like ages. Then R5 let out a piercing shriek and Kira, Ornak, and Mobara threw themselves into action, diving out of the way of the Cardassian’s aim before scrambling up to run.

They headed back down the path they had come, angry Cardassian shouts and the sound of phaser fire not far behind them.

“Well they know we’re here now,” said Kira, shouting as she ran, Mobara and Ornak up ahead of her, R5 close at her heels.

“Split up,” Mobara shouted back, grabbing Ornak by the wrist and pulling him off to the left.

“Copy that,” said Kira as she ran by, _and may the Prophets be with you,_ she added silently. 

She looked down at R5, speeding along beside her. “Looks like you’re with me, buddy,” she said. He whistled in agreement. “All right,” she said, glancing back to see that she had put some distance between them and the pursuing Cardassians. Good, they were outside of visual range. “This way.” Kira headed off the path in the opposite direction to the one Mobara and Ornak had taken, R5 right behind her. 

Kira slipped and stumbled as she ran, the density of the underbrush and the rockiness of the terrain only increasing as she went. She paused and turned around to check on R5.

“You doing okay?” she asked. 

The astromech was somewhat behind her, struggling over the rough ground, but it pushed on stubbornly. It whistled in response to Kira’s question.

“Good, Mobara’ll yell at me if I let anything happen to you.” 

The droid whistled in agreement and Kira rolled her eyes. She looked up and scanned the terrain behind R5. There was no sign of their pursuers. “We’re looking good, R5, hopefully we’ve lost them.” The droid had caught up to her and she gave it a light pat. “Come on then, let’s keep going. Hopefully we’ll find Mobara and Ornak soon.”

They set off again, at a slower pace now but still making good time. Kira traced a wide, semi-circular route, arcing them back towards the path they had come up earlier that morning. After a few hours, she and R5 had almost reached the farming settlement. _Prophets, why do I keep ending up here?_ Kira asked silently as she and R5 slowed, pressed up against the cliff walls to avoid detection from anyone, Cardassian or Bajoran, who might notice their approach. She received no answer but the soft whine of the wind. The weight in her chest and a twitch of anticipation which had been increasing as they made their escape redoubled. 

A series of whistles from R5 snapped Kira’s attention back to the present. “What? What is it?” she asked. R5 whistled again. Kira hastily scanned the area and spotted several thin wisps of black smoke lazily curling up from behind the hills ahead. Right where the farming settlement would be. “Dammit,” she said, “That can’t be good.” R5 whistled in response. 

Kira hurried to the rise of the hill and looked down at the farming settlement. What remained of the farming settlement. The valley was silent except for the faint crackle of the still burning houses and the cries of a few carrion birds, lazily circling above. Apart from the birds there was no other movement as Kira ran down the hill, R5 hurrying along behind her.

She stopped when she reached the main road of the settlement, even more silent and deserted of life than it had been the day prior. Now there were only bodies. Kira saw some bore signs of phaser wounds. Others appeared to have been impaled or cut in half. _No blood, cauterized,_ she thought, looking at the mutilated bodies. _Lightsaber wounds._ She looked up and down the road, counting the dead. _This must be the entire town. They killed everyone. Why? Was it our fault? Did they blame them for sheltering resistance fighters?_ Kira looked back at the body at her feet and realized it was the old man from the day before, the one who warned her and Ornak away. The mornings rations rolled in her stomach. 

She looked up as R5 approached her, working its way carefully around the bodies. It beeped inquisitively at her. 

“We should go,” Kira said, finally. Her chest ached at the idea of just leaving the farmers where they lay, but she certainly didn’t have the time to bury them, or to observe the proper funerary rites. “We have to keep moving.”

Kira made her way back to the remains of the buildings. As she reached them she froze at the sound of an approaching speeder bike before dashing behind one of the collapsed structures and throwing herself behind the charred pile of timbers, pressing herself as closely as she dared without letting the hot, charred wood burn her. R5 raced around to hide behind Kira.

Carefully peering up and across the remains of the building, Kira saw a pair of Cardassians pull up the road on a speeder bike. Their uniforms indicated they were only low-ranking enlisted soldiers, like the Cardassian who had nearly Cardassian who had nearly captured Kira and her friends earlier in the day. _Are these the same Cardassians we saw earlier? Are these the Cardassians responsible for what happened here? Are those groups one and the same?_

Kira’s breath hitched and she slowly reached back, grabbing her phaser rifle and pulling it forward. The Cardassians has dismounted the speeder and were slowly walking up the road, almost casually surveying the destruction. She checked the charge on her phaser rifle. Low. Only a few shots. Not enough for a full on firefight. But still, a few shots. _This can’t be all of them, not all of the ones responsible. The Sith was here, those were lightsaber marks on the bodies, these are just regular soldiers, but regular soldiers killed these farmers too._

Kira’s grip tightened on her phaser rifle, finger resting lightly on the trigger as she slowly raised the rifle to aim at the Cardassians. She could hear them talking, an indistinguishable murmur rising above the last pops and crackles the buildings of the destroyed settlement let out as they collapsed inward on themselves. One of the Cardassians let out a laugh at something the other had said, the sound harsh in the smoke-filled air. 

Kira’s lips pressed together into a thin line. Her eyes burned. She heard the blood rush in her ears. Slowly, she forced herself to take slow, even breaths as she centered herself and concentrated on the steady rhythm of her heartbeat. _Two shots. I have two shots. I can make two shots. They don’t know I’m here. Two shots. They’ll be dead before they know what’s happening._ She lined up her sights on the Cardassian who had laughed. 

Arms encircled Kira from behind, one around her torso and arms, the other over her mouth. She bit the hand over her mouth drawing blood as she was pulled backward down onto the grounds. She heard the hiss of words in a language she did not recognize at the bite and at her repeated kicks to her assailants legs as she and her attacker hit the ground.

“Stop! Cepel, it’s me,” the voice hissed in her ear, “Be quiet or they’ll hear us.”

Kira froze as her startled mind processed the voice, then wrenched her head from her assailant's grasp to scowl furiously over her shoulder into the face of Paska Elo.  
“What the hell are you doing here?” she whispered. “And let go of me.”

The arm around her arms and chest let go and Kira rolled away into a crouch. Paska picked himself up onto one knee so that he was facing Kira and brushed himself off. The hand she had bitten was clenched tightly in a fist.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean to startle you. But you can’t shoot them.”

Kira glared at him. “Oh I most certainly can.” She kept her voice low but her words were filled with venom. “Did you see what they did here? They slaughtered these people in the street and I am _completely_ justified in shooting them.” 

Paska frowned and opened his mouth as if to argue before stopping. He paused and took a breath. “This area is crawling with Cardassians, but right now they have no specific information on partisans in this sector. Otherwise they would be conducting a targeted search for you and your friends, not these random sweeps. If you shoot these two now, the Cardassians will be alerted to your presence and track you down. You have to be smart about how you fight back, isn’t that what you told Nonyo?”

Kira blinked at him, her brow furrowed, before her mouth contorted into a scowl. It was the most sensible thing she had ever heard him say and it was pissing her off. The look on Paska’s face was also stood in stark contrast to her prior experiences with the man. He looked quite serious, older. More experienced. Damn him for being reasonable. 

Kira turned to look at the Cardassians. She stayed still, crouched, her fingers tightly gripping her phaser rifle as they returned to their speeder bike and continued on their patrol. 

Some of the tension bled out of Kira as she released a long exhale. “So, are you going to tell me what you are doing here?” she asked.

Paska looked around furtively. “Not here. Come back to the cave, it’s safer there. Then I’ll tell you.”

Kira frowned. What was this man up to? He’d been strange before but the sudden personality shift was just plain weird. And the cave was in the wrong direction, she needed to find Ornak and Mobara. Of course, she had to admit the chances of their meeting back up out in the expanses of the Dahkur hills was pretty remote. She really needed to get to Dahka. But the Cardassians were up to something. They were moving into areas they had previously left alone. And there was the question of the sith. If Paska knew something, anything, she should try and find out what. 

“Okay,” she said, standing up, “Let’s go.”

Paska got up and they set off for the cave. R5 followed along next to Kira. She looked down at the droid. “What’s up with you then?” she asked. “You didn’t even warn me when he was sneaking up on me.”

R5 chirped back his reply and Kira let out a long sigh. _I would have alerted the Cardassians too._ She shook her head. _That’s okay Nerys,_ she said to herself, _it’s just not your day._ Which was true, the days scorecard certainly had not come up in her favor. Separated from two of her remaining friends and headed back to the same place she had been the day before, an increased threat from the Cardassians and her only allies an astromech and a foreigner of unknown provenance and loyalty, both of whom had managed to one-up her in the logic department in the last fifteen minutes. So yes, not her best day, all in all. 

But also not the worst. After all, Kira thought as she walked, she had food in her stomach, a plan of sorts, and she had evaded the Cardassians so far, so there was still a chance of things working out. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling of foreboding, the tightness in her chest and the lump in the pit of her stomach, which had dogged her since that morning—was it only two days ago?—when the Cardassians and the sith with the red lightsaber had stormed the resistance hideout in the Dahkur caves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Hopefully, updates will be more frequent now but I hesitate to make any promises. Still, I have a plan (says the person notorious for being unable to stick to a plan) and more should be forthcoming soon.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kira and Paska have a long talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Han Solo shouting in the distance: That's not how the Force works!  
> Me shouting back: I know!

Kira sat eating her ration bar, leaning back against the wall of the cave next to R5 as Paska rifled through his pack across from her. It was growing dark, the walk back to the cave had taken until it was the sun had nearly set, and Paska pulled out a small portable light which he turned on to the lowest setting and placed on the ground in front of him.

“So,” said Kira in between bites of her ration bar, “Are you going to tell me what exactly is going on? What are you really doing out here in the Dahkur hills?”

Paska sighed as he sat down, crossing his legs and clasping his hands in his lap. “Well, to start with, much of what I told you was the truth. I am looking for someone. We were in Dahka, we got separated, he disappeared, I went looking for him. That much is true. It’s just not the entire truth.”

Kira just raised an eyebrow at him.

“The whole truth is a little more complicated,” Paska continued, “And you may not believe it.”

“Try me.”

He took a deep breath. Kira waited. She could hear the first insects of the evening start their songs. Paska swallowed a few times. 

“I am a padawan of the Jedi order and I came to Bajor with my master to investigate a sect of Bajoran force users. My master went missing while we were in Dahka and I am here looking for him.”

Kira sat, blinking, and stared at him. _What?_ “You’re right,” she finally said, “I don’t believe you.” She kept going even as Paska opened his mouth as if to argue. “The Jedi are part of the Federation. They’d have no reason to be on Bajor. They wouldn’t be _allowed_ on Bajor. And besides, there are no Bajoran Jedi.”

“Oh, right, the disguise,” said Paska, seemingly momentarily distracted from his earlier seriousness, “I’m not Bajoran. This,” he gestured to his face, “Was just to avoid drawing too much attention. As you said, the Cardassians don’t take to kindly to outside interference. Actually, I’m-”

“Don’t!” Kira said, cutting him off sharply. “Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.” He slumped, crestfallen, and she sighed. “This whole conversation is insanely dangerous. Really you shouldn’t be telling me any of this, but especially don’t tell me stuff like that. Personal stuff. No more than you already have anyway.” 

Paska still seemed somewhat saddened but at that he nodded. “Oh, um, yes. Of course.” He cocked his head to look at her. “Why?”

Kira sighed. “So I can’t tell anyone if I’m captured and tortured.” She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “Of course it all makes sense now,” she added almost under her breath.

“What makes sense?”

Of course he caught that. “You’re not Bajoran. So you didn’t grow up under an occupation, did you?” At Paska’s quizzical look she clarified. “You don’t act like a Bajoran. You don’t react or respond the way someone familiar with the way things are here would. And you don’t behave as if you understand the consequences of your actions under a system like this one.”

“Ah. So you could tell I was an outsider.”

“From the minute I met you.”

“I see.” He had the decency to look embarrassed. 

“So, you’re a Jedi,” Kira asked, returning to the original topic of conversation.

“I am. Or, I will be. I’m still a padawan. In training,” he clarified at Kira’s blank look. 

“Right,” said Kira, still skeptical, “And why should I believe you? That you really are a Jedi and an alien from some far off world in the Federation come to visit Bajor. I mean, it’s far more likely you’re simply delusional, or just lying. For all I know you could be a Cardassian plant, trying to get information on the resistance.” Her hand moved a little closer to her phaser rifle at the thought. “You already admitted you’re not a Bajoran, you’re a surgically altered alien.”

“I’m not a Cardassian spy,” said Paska, holding up a hand, “And I can prove I’m a Jedi. Just give me a minute.” He reached for his bag, digging through it down almost to the bottom. “Ah, here we go.”

Kira’s eyes went wide as he pulled out a metal cylinder, roughly the length of a hand phaser. A lightsaber. She’d never seen one this close before, and, other than the few glimpses of the red-bladed weapon carried by the Cardassian Sith, she had never seen one in person at all.

“Do you know what this is?” Paska asked.

“A lightsaber.”

“Only Jedi carry lightsabers.”

“And Sith.”

Paska frowned at that. He held the lightsaber out in front of him, pointing the end up and activated it. The blade sprang upwards, casting a faint blue glow onto his face. “Sith carry red lightsabers.”

Kira stared at the lightsaber, the paranoid, suspicious corners of her mind not yet satisfied. “Why were you at the settlement?”

“What?” Paska looked startled at the question.

“This afternoon. Why were you there? Why did you stop me?”

“I felt a disturbance in the Force.”

Kira again raised an eyebrow.

“I’m serious. I felt a disturbance and I followed where the Force willed me go,” he paused for a moment, “Why?”

Kira looked back at the lightsaber, still ignited in Paska’s hand. “There were lightsaber wounds on some of the bodies.”

He jerked back at her words. “What? I,” Paska asked, sputtering, “What?”

Kira just looked at him. She didn’t truly think him responsible for the massacre, the signs pointed towards the Cardassians and the Sith far more. But she couldn’t afford to simply trust him on this. The suspicion around force users on Bajor were simply too great. And her own time in the resistance had honed her paranoia to a fine edge. She had to push Paska on this. She wanted to see his response. 

“I would never,” he finally said, once he regained his mental footing, “Jedi are peacekeepers. We only fight when we have to, to defend people. We don’t massacre farmers, kill unarmed civilians. No, you must have been mistaken.” 

His outrage was real, Kira thought, or was at least an excellent acting job. Although considering his prior attempts at subterfuge she found that unlikely. However, that didn’t necessarily mean he was telling the truth. Still, other than the fact that he possessed a lightsaber she had no real reason to believe he was involved in the massacre of the farmers. 

“I’m not mistaken,” she said, “We may not have seen force users on Bajor for generations,” she indicated the lightsaber, “But I know weapons well enough to figure out what that would do to a body. And I know what I saw. It may not have been you,” Paska stiffened at her words but she kept going, “But that still leaves the Sith.”

“I’m sorry, what? A Sith?” Paska started again before depowering his lightsaber and leaned forward, folding his arms around his torso.

Kira nodded.

“A Cardassian Sith?”

She nodded again.

“Well this is bad, this is very bad” He paused, chewing on his thumbnail. “Are you sure? Have you seen this Sith? Not just the farmers’ bodies, the actual Sith? You’ve seen him? You’re sure there’s a Sith?”

“Yes. Two days ago. My, ah, my friends and I, our group was forced out of the caves we were staying in by a detachment of Cardassians. They were headed by this Sith. That is,” Kira paused, the feeling of dread in her stomach redoubling, “Assuming there is only one of them.” 

Paska inhaled a long breath. “Okay, that’s bad, very, very bad,” he said again, almost mumbling to himself. “I should contact- no, I can’t, it’s too dangerous. Now I have to find- then at least. . .” he trailed off. Kira just looked at him. She hoped Paska wasn’t in the habit of talking to himself.

“Right,” Paska said, switching his attention back to Kira, “This changes things. Well, some things. If there are Cardassian Sith on Bajor it’s bad news for all of us. And it means you were right this morning. We can’t stay here.”

“I was right even without the Sith.”

He carried on, ignoring her interruption. “It also means I need to find my Master more than ever, although that will be more difficult with a Sith out there. Which is why I need your help.”

Kira leaned back against the cave wall. Paska sounded so confident that she would drop everything and come with him on some fruitless chase for the missing man she almost rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m headed to Dahka, so if you want to come along you’re welcome to but once we’re there I need to track down my people. I can try and point you in the right direction but after that you’re on your own. I’m sorry but I can’t just drop everything to go help you find your Master.”

Paska looked a bit taken aback. Slowly he folded his hands in his lap, taking a deep breath before he spoke. “My apologies. My Master often reminds me I need to be more patient and tactful. I, ah, often let my enthusiasm get the better of me.”

Kira waited, hoping the apology would lead to further explanation.

Paska continued, in the slow, precise way Kira had begun to associate with him trying to be diplomatic and persuasive. “I need your help to locate my Master. You know your world far better than I ever could, and you have contacts and resources I could never hope to access. Furthermore, the presence of the Sith indicates a far larger problem for force users on Bajor than I could have ever anticipated. In return for your assistance, I would try and help you with that problem.”

“You could kill him?”

“What? No, probably not.” Paska shrugged. “From what we know about the training techniques of the Obsidian Order they focus extensively on combat training. A full-fledged Jedi knight would be able to take on one of their operatives, but I’m still a padawan and not nearly so proficient in saber skills yet. No, what I meant was I could help you and then perhaps other Bajoran force sensitives learn how to shield, and maybe some defensive tricks you could use against any Obsidian Order forces you might be confronted with.” 

Kira started as his words processed. “I’m not force sensitive,” she said.

Paska frowned. “Really? I thought for sure, with the way you react and process data, and the way the force moves around you, I felt for certain you were force sensitive.” His eyebrows furrowed. “Were you ever tested?”

“No I was never tested. There are no force sensitives on Bajor. There would be no reason to test anyone.” 

“There are force sensitives on all worlds. Well, there are a few species in which force sensitivity is very rare, but Bajorans are not one of them. A Bajoran is just as likely to be force sensitive as any other sentient in the galaxy. There have been Bajoran Jedi. And Bajor has its own force traditions. Or it has in the past, anyway.”

Despite Kira’s scowl he continued. “Look, I can only tell you what I learned from the archives before I left to come here. I know Bajor used to have a tradition of force sensitives, not unlike the Jedi. They were a religious sect, called the Hiseria Kos, somewhat apart from the dominant religious tradition that you are familiar with, but not hostile towards it.”

“A splinter group?”

“Yes, but one that by all accounts was traditionally on good terms with the Kai and many of the vedeks. They served as part of Bajor’s peacekeeping and defense force in times of crisis.”

“Like the Jedi do for the Federation.”

“Yes. Although in the case of the Hiseria Kos that’s what, at least in part, led to their destruction. When the Cardassians came to Bajor they sent in the Sith of the Obsidian Order and in the confrontation the Hiseria Kos were wiped out.” 

Paska paused to catch his breath and, catching sight of Kira’s frown and furrowed eyebrows, made an effort to reign in his excitement. “That’s all I know. The Jedi archives has a fair amount of archival sources, which you could look into if you were ever to visit Vulcan, but as for more recent data it’s hard to get information out of occupied Cardassian territories, they’re not exactly keen on the Federation or the Jedi knowing what they get up to. That’s why my Master and I came here, we were going to try and find more information on the Hiseria Kos and their destruction.”

“As for you, there’s no real way for me to tell for sure if you’re force sensitive.” He qualified with a shrug. “I could be wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

This was going on Kira’s list of her least favorite conversations of all time. She took a deep breath, trying to dispel some of her anger and tension and focus on the last part of what Paska had said. “If there’s no way to tell if someone is force sensitive, how do the Jedi even know who to pick who to train? How can you even tell if there is such a thing as force sensitivity if you can’t test for it?”

“Oh, we can test for it,” said Paska with a laugh, “I just can’t do it here or now. Normally if a Jedi suspects a child is force sensitive—it’s normally children, not adults—they’ll just request to run a test on the individual’s midichlorian count.”

At Kira’s blank look he explained. “Midichlorians are microorganisms that indicate an individual's sensitivity to the force. The more midichlorians you have, the greater your force sensitivity. Right now, however, I don’t have access to the tools needed to run the test on you. So there’s no way to tell for certain.” He smiled. “I do think I’m right, though.” 

“I’m not-”

Paska held up his hands. “I think I’m right but I’m not going to argue with you.” As Kira reluctantly subsided he put his hands down. “But whether you are force sensitive or not we still have a problem.”

“What is that?”

“There are other force sensitives on Bajor, whether you believe it to be true or not. And if there is a Sith here, then their primary objective will be to hunt down and eliminate those people.” 

“Yes, you said the Cardassians killed them at the outset of the occupation. So who would the Sith be targeting now?”

“At the beginning of the occupation the Obsidian Order came after the Hiseria Kos, yes, as they were there main target as the organized resistance. But there were a lot of other force sensitives on Bajor. And they were targeted as well. After the first wave of the occupation the Obsidian Order appeared to pull out. I don’t know why they left, like I said we don’t have too much information. Probably they were too valuable to keep in one place. But now they’re back. And given what they did the last time they were here, they’re likely targeting the generation of force sensitives born after the onset of the occupation.”

“One question, if you, the Federation, can’t get information about what’s going on on Bajor, how do you know what the Obsidian Order did to the Bajoran force sensitives, to this Hiseria Kos? I doubt they were very open about that.”

Paska frowned. “Okay, so, the Force, it, the Force connects all living things,” he said carefully, “And if a Jedi or another force sensitive learns to listen carefully they can hear things in the force that they couldn’t otherwise know. And when a large number of people die, particularly when a large number of force sensitives die, other force sensitives can tell.”

“So you knew because of the Force?” 

“Well, not me, other Jedi. Older Jedi. This was decades ago.” Kira rolled her eyes. “But yes,” Paska continued, “They felt the destruction in the Force. The destruction of the Hiseria Kos, of the Bajoran force sensitives, and the destruction of the occupation itself. I mean, nothing detailed, but the general impression got through. Plus the Federation has its own intelligence sources. So there’s some additional information from those.”

“Right. So, to summarize, the Obsidian Order killed all the force sensitives on Bajor at the outset of the occupation,” said Kira. 

“Yes.”

“And now they’re back, to do what, exactly? Do it again? Track down and kill all the force sensitives on Bajor?”

“Well, I couldn’t say for sure, but given what the Jedi know about their operating procedures, it’s likely. The Obsidian Order is not exactly known for allowing non-Cardassian force sensitives within its reach to live their lives peacefully.”

“Right, but how would the Cardassians know who to target? You said yourself you couldn’t test for it. Does it run in families?”

“Well, as you know the Cardassian intelligence networks are extensive. They’ll likely track them through existing systems. I mean, they have a lot of control over the population, right? I couldn’t say for sure, though. And the Cardassians would also have access to the technologies which would allow them to test for force sensitivity. It’s only a lack of resources that’s limiting me now, not lack of knowledge.” 

He sighed, frowning apologetically. “All I know comes from what I learned about how they are known to operate, information we have from other worlds under Cardassian control. And if what you say is true, if there are Sith on Bajor, and if they hold to pattern, a lot of people are going to be targeted and a lot of people are going to be killed.”

Kira let out a tired chuckle. “A lot of people die on Bajor every day.” She shook herself. “But if you’re right, if there is going to be a crackdown, what do we need to know to get ahead of it? What can you tell me?”

“I’ve pretty much told you everything I know. What we should do now is find my Master. He can help you. He’ll know more about the Sith and the Hiseria Kos, and be able to help you figure out how to protect people.” 

“I’m sure he could help, but I already told you, I can’t just go running off trying to find one missing person. Jedi. Person. And that isn’t even mentioning the fact that your Master is probably in a Cardassian prison somewhere, and that’s the best case scenario. And the fact that I have friends that I need to find as well. I can't just go and abandon them.”

“So you can’t help even if it would gain you, your friends, and your cause valuable information and allies?”

Kira’s eyes narrowed. “Is there information contingent on my assistance?”

Paska swallowed, clenching his hands tightly in his lap. “Does it have to be?”

“That’s up to you. And the other? I thought Jedi were supposed to be impartial. And you’re outside your jurisdiction besides.”

“True. But the gap between theory and execution is often wider than one might think. And as you said, we’re outside our jurisdiction. That changes the operating procedures somewhat.”

Kira thought for a moment, chewing lightly on her bottom lip. “So let me get this straight. I help you track down your missing Jedi Master in whatever Cardassian prison he’s gotten himself locked up in, help you help him escape, then you both help the resistance figure out who the Cardassians are targeting and teach us how to combat the Sith. You said you could do that, right?”

“Right,” he nodded quickly, “And there’s no guarantee my Master’s in prison. I just need your help finding him.”

“He’s in prison. Or a forced labor camp. Of course those are the positive options. He’s just as likely dead.”

“He’s not dead.”

“Okay, so he’s in prison. So you’re going to want my help getting him out.”

“Thank you for your assistance. You are very kind.”

“I haven’t agreed to do it yet. If we do this, first we go to Dahka.” She held up a hand to forestall Paska’s objections. “First we go to Dahka. We make contact with my cell. I get some more ammunition. And we get R5 here back to Mobara. I’d never hear the end of it if I let anything happen to R5.”

Paska sat back. “Okay,” he said, “I agree to your terms.”

_That’s it?_ thought Kira _I thought he’d put up more of a fight_. She shrugged. “Very well, then. We’ll set out at first light tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, nearly 3,500 words of expository dialogue isn't most folks idea of a good time. But Paska was being exceptionally chatty and wanted to reveal all kinds of big secrets. Kira's a bit bemused, having grown up knowing the value of secrecy as she has. The author is also rather puzzled, but hey, sometimes the characters do what they want.  
> Anyone have any guesses as to Paska's true identity? Here's a hint: he's canon. I may or may not tell you if you guess correctly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go to Dahka, take two. (Take three? Anyway, yet another attempt to get to the capital.)

It was overcast the following morning, a thick, heavy fog having settled down over the hills in the night. Kira woke to find her hair and blankets heavy and damp, despite the protection of the cave. She sat up, shivering in the cool, pre-dawn air, and grabbed for her pack. From it she pulled out her map of the region.

It was not as detailed as the holomap R5 carried, but Kira’s contained her own personal notes and additions. It also did not require her to disturb the droid, currently hibernating in a low power cycle, and risk waking Paska. For all Paska was a font of information, and apparently loved to talk, right now she wanted time to think.

Kira stared blankly at the map, absently sketching out possible routes in her mind. But the majority of her attention was on the conversation of the night before. Okay, point one. Paska was a Jedi knight. Or a Jedi padawan, whatever that really meant. Jedi trainee? Kira shrugged. Assuming it was true, though, that was a lot to take in. 

Even on Bajor, Jedi were legendary. Diplomats, peacekeepers, warriors, wielders of the Force, the protectors of the Federation. And whatever you thought of their philosophy, and on Bajor that was topic of some (secretive and hushed) debate, their powers and prowess made them seem larger than life. Almost mythic. And Paska, was, . . . not. 

He was awkward and overly eager and often seemed like he was trying far too hard to be serious. Which, Kira thought, was maybe part of the padawan thing. He hadn’t gotten the serious Jedi ethos down yet. Of course, it could just be part of his personality. It’s not like she knew what Jedi were really like once you got past the stories that surely got more outrageous with each telling.

Of course, this was all assuming that Paska was telling the truth. Kira felt like he was. And she was usually a pretty good judge of character. She knew that sometimes she had a tendency to be too accepting, but she knew she had been critical of Paska. She was not inclined to trust him totally, even now, even if he was truly a Jedi. The risks were too great. But she thought she might be willing to trust him just a little, just enough to see how reliable his information was. And being a Jedi was a strange lie to tell. It was far too outlandish for most spies, double agents, or infiltrators. However, it would be terribly hard to disprove. _He does have a lightsaber, though. . ._

Kira sighed. Even given how outrageous Paska’s story about himself was, the rest of the evening's conversation had been even stranger. An order of Bajoran force wielders? The Cardassians sending the Sith to target them? And the Sith being back meaning they were going to target force sensitives on Bajor again? It was all so much to take in. And that wasn’t even considering what Paska had said about her.

_I’m not force sensitive,_ thought Kira as she threw off her blankets and stood up, stretching even as she shivered in the damp air. _It’s not possible. I’m just regular old, ordinary Kira Nerys._

She threw on her jacket and scrounged through her pack for a ration bar, chewing on it slowly as she began to pack up her blankets. _One good thing about Paska,_ she thought, he does have an awful lot of food. She wondered briefly why and how he carried so many ration packs before shaking her head. _Maybe it’s a Jedi thing?_ Then again, if he was from off world, from the Federation, he would have access to resources Bajorans could only dream about. _And no idea that looking well fed and wandering around with plentiful food supplies was incredibly suspicious._

Once Kira had finished packing her things she looked over at Paska. His still sleeping form was a blanket covered lump on the cave floor, with only the very top of his head visible from under the coverings. She rolled her eyes. Clearly she needn’t have worried about waking him if she had decided to use the holomap earlier, since her subsequent packing and R5’s morning greetings hadn’t caused him to stir. 

Walking over Kira nudged the pile gently with the toe of her boot. “Hey. It’s time to get up.”

Paska groaned and turtled himself further under the blanket.

“Humph.” Kira sat her hands on her hips and stared down at the lump at her feet. “If you don’t get up I’m leaving for Dahka without you.”

Paska groaned again but this time a hand emerged from under the covers to wave her off. “I’m up, I’m up. Just give me a minute,” came a muffled voice.

Kira sighed and shook her head but went back over to her pack to consult with R5. 

Fifteen minutes and a ration bar later Paka stood next to Kira only half listening to her explain their planned route to Dahka. Catching him staring off into the middle distance, Kira broke off her explanation. 

“Are you listening to anything I’m saying?”

“What? Um, yes?”

Kira frowned. “Is something the matter? You weren't this bad yesterday.”

“That was my last caffeine tab. I’m out now.”

“I see,” she said, turning back to the holomap, “Well, we ran out months ago. You’ll get used to it, according to Mobara. In a couple weeks you’ll be fine.” 

Paska grunted. “Thanks.”

“Just get your things together. We need to get moving.”

They set out not long after daybreak, Kira in the lead, a still sleepy Paska in the middle, R5 bringing up the rear. The fog had yet to lift and Kira’s nerves were soon strained, as every rustle of leaves, snap of a branch, and cry of an unseen bird caused her to flinch and freeze, imaginary Cardassians charging out of the fog before disappearing like smoke as rational thought processed the stimuli. 

She had chosen to take a more challenging path to Dahka than she had taken the day before with Ornak and Mobara. Instead of winding their way through the valleys and canyons between the hills, today she, Paska, and R5 were climbing up and over some of the steepest slopes of the region.

The advantage to this strategy was that they could take a more direct route and hopefully avoid several major Cardassian encampments. The downside was that traveling over top of the hill instead of around them meant that they were far more exposed to the eyes of any passing Cardassian patrols. Of course, with the thick fog, that was not so much of a concern this morning. Unless the Cardassians were employing sensor sweeps, or had deployed surveillance droids in the region, Kira felt confident they were safe from being spotted for the time being, with visibility as it was, cut down to a few feet.

The more challenging hiking route had another drawback as well. That is, it was slow going and physically exhausting. Hiking up and down steep hillsides and into and out of the canyons and ravines that fragmented the landscape was rough on all of the members of the party, droid and organic. 

By noon, as the fog began to thin, Kira’s feet were aching and she was beginning to regret her decision. She paused to catch her breath, leaning against a boulder at the lip of a narrow canyon. With the increased visibility they needed to find cover soon. 

“Why don’t we find a way down into the canyon, then follow along the path at the bottom, that should give us some protection from the Cardassians,” said Paska, echoing Kira’s own thoughts.

Kira agreed, but even with R5’s help it took them at least another hour to find a way down a steep and winding path into the relative safety of the canyon. Exhausted from the morning's hike and the final descent, they found their way over to one of the smaller boulder formations at the bottom of the canyon wall to sit on and rest. 

Carefully unwrapping a ration bar, Kira looked over at Paska. The cold of the morning and the exertion of the hike seemed to have sufficiently woken him up. He sat near the edge of the boulder, one boot in his hands as he tried to remove a pebble from it. 

“Can I ask you something?”

Paska turned to face Kira, pulling his boot back on. “Yes.”

“You say you’re a Jedi. And, for right now, I’m going to take your word that you’re telling the truth about that.” The corner of Paska’s mouth crooked upwards in a slight grin at that. “But, assuming you’re not lying, could you tell me something? I mean, we get stories, even on Bajor, we have stories of the Jedi. They're probably very old, and mostly not true, and you’re fairly controversial. But I do have a question.”

Controversial was not an overstatement. Even with mention of the Prophets outlawed under the occupation, Bajoran religious belief and practice were still strong and widespread throughout Bajor. And how Bajorans incorporated the Force into their belief in the Prophets varied widely. 

Some thought that there was no conflict between the two, that the Prophets were simply part of the Force, that the two ideologies were interconnected and that belief in one did not go against the belief in the other. Others were far more suspicious, even hostile towards the idea of the Force. After all, some of the ideas surrounding the Force could be seen as heretical. And on Bajor, if an ideology came into conflict with what was seen as the will of the Prophets, the Prophets would be chosen every time. 

Kira’s parents had fallen, like most Bajorans, somewhere in the middle of this spectrum. She could still remember the stories, told in hushed whispers in the crowded tents of the Singha refugee camp. The bitter cold of the night air as she crowded with her brothers around cooking fires or huddled under blankets as old men and women told tales of the Jedi from before the occupation. Sometimes, on rare occasions, her father would tell them the few stories he knew, as she was tucked up in her cot before going to sleep.

So Kira knew the stories. And she knew the debates. Even as secretive as they were, with the restrictions and risks of the occupation, the Jedi were known on Bajor. What she wanted to know now was what a Jedi— _a real living Jedi with a lightsaber and powers beyond what any ordinary sentient possessed_ the excited, childlike voice in the back of her mind whispered—would say about the things the stories of her childhood attributed to the Jedi. How Paska would react to the perceptions of his order. 

Paska sat cross-legged, chin tilted, seeming to consider Kira’s request. He seemed rather surprised that Kira would be interested at all, after her reactions the night before. “Alright,” he said finally, “What do you want to know?”

“Like I said, we have stories about the Jedi. The things you can do, People say Jedi can read minds, you can tell if someone is lying, you can make people do things, or believe things, just by telling them to. They say you can fly. That you can lift great weights with your minds. That one Jedi can defeat an entire army.”

Paska looked a bit embarrassed.

“Is any of it true?” Kira asked.

“Well, it’s complicated,” he said.

Kira chewed on her ration bar, waiting for him to clarify. 

Paska continued. “The Jedi have capabilities, through our relationship with the Force, which many people might find extraordinary. And much of what you described is, theoretically, possible, to a degree. It all requires a good deal of training and discipline, though, so it’s not like all Jedi can do all things. We’re not supermen. 

And we can’t fly. We’re just really good at jumping.” 

That earned a chuckle from Kira. “So, yes on the unbelievable powers, but also no on the unbelievable powers. Got it. Just one follow-up question, then.” Her faint smile dissolved into hard eyes and a frown. “If you can do all these amazing things, where the hell have you been?”

Paska started at the sudden sharpness of her tone. “What?”

“You have all these incredible power. Even if they’re exaggerated, or difficult to learn, you can do things that no ordinary person could ever hope to accomplish. And your job, ostensibly, is to serve as peacekeepers. So where are you when people need help. Sure, here you are on Bajor, but it’s been over thirty years, and it’s not like you are doing anything, you’re sneaking around, and apparently getting arrested, which isn’t much use. So what is wrong with you? Why don’t you help people? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do? Or is a non-Federation world like Bajor too far outside your mandate for you to care about?”

The look of shock on Paska’s face made her feel a bit guilty, but the anger churning in her stomach didn’t abate. She’d wondered for years, since she was a child listening to those stories back in the refugee camp and now she wanted answers.

“Partially, yes, it is a matter of politics,” said Paska slowly, regaining some of his composure. “The Jedi answer to the Federation council and we cannot go off without permission. We are also nearly always requested,” he continued, “And when we intervene in a crisis is is usually at the behest of one of the parties involved.”

He swallowed, and Kira noticed that he would not meet her eyes. “So yes, much of the reasoning behind what the Jedi do and do not do is political. And I don’t understand most of it. And there is also the matter of philosophy, which is extremely complex and I won’t get into it now. But also, as I said, we’re not supermen, we’re not invincible.” A small, almost sad smile spread across his face as he looked up. “I suppose that’s the trouble with everyone telling stories about you. In the end, the reality can never live up.”

Kira sat quietly for a few moments, thinking about what Paska had said. Finally, she folded the wrapper from her ration bar and stuck it back into her pack. “We’d best be getting a move on,” she said softly, sliding down off the boulder. “Hopefully R5 will be back soon from wherever it’s gotten off to.”

“I think it was just headed further down the canyon,” said Paska, a note of relief in his voice at her decision not to push the issue. He slid down to stand next to her. “Can’t have gone far.”

They set off down the path, the steep walls of the canyon looming overhead, but didn’t make it more than a few paces before R5 came racing down the path ahead of them, nearly colliding with Kira as it rounded a sharp corner.

“Woah there little fella, what’s wrong?” asked Paska.

R5 let out a string of frantic beeps.

“What was that? I don’t speak binary.”

“Cardassians,” Kira translated, “A patrol. Headed this way. Did they see you?”

R5 replied to the negative.

“Cardassians? In the canyon?” asked Paska.

“Yes in the canyon,” she hissed, headed back towards the cluster of boulders. “Quickly. We need to hide.”

The trio wedged themselves in between the boulders and the walls of the canyon, Kira helping R5 over the smaller rocks into the hiding place. As Kira crouched down next to the droid, pressing herself up against the rock in front of her, she could hear the footsteps of the approaching Cardassians crunching on the gravelly path.

Her heart thumped rapidly in her chest. _How many times in the last two days is this?_ she asked herself. _Too many. It might be the tactically sound decision, but Ornak had a point. Running and hiding when we’re supposed to be the military resistance to the Cardassian occupation of Bajor is just pathetic._

The Cardassians were closer now, about to pass in front of the hidden group. Kira held her breath and she felt Paska, squeezed in next to her, hold his too. The patrol passed without pausing. Kira took a deep breath. Then she heard a shout go up from one of the lead Cardassians.

Standing ever so slightly to see above the top of the boulder, Kira could see the Cardassian gesturing to something on the ground and motioning to the others in the patrol to fan out. She dropped back down.

“I think they spotted out footprints,” she said in a whisper. “They’re spreading out to search.”

“Will they find us?”

“If they look very hard at all.” She paused and considered before saying, “I know you said you’re not a superman, but now might be the time for those unbelievable powers, if you have anything.”

Paska frowned but after a moment crouched to look over the top of the boulder at the Cardassians. Kira watched as he carefully stretched out a hand, his face settling into a look of intense concentration. She crouched up to look at the Cardassians as well. They were between their hiding place and the mouth of the canyon, but headed back towards the boulders they were behind. 

Turning back to Paska she saw his eyes were closed. His hand was still stretched out and when she looked she saw it was in the direction of a pile of boulders at the top of the canyon. As she watched the boulders began to rock, and to tilt, before eventually the precarious pile gave way, triggering a rockslide.

Kira could hear shouts in startled Kardasi as the rocks tumbled down into the canyon. Looking up over the boulders, she could see the patrol hurrying out towards the more open fields, away from them.

As the rocks impacted on the canyon floor, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris, Paska turned to Kira. “We should go,” he said.

Kira nodded, shoving R5 over the boulders and out of the hiding spot before running down the canyon away from the Cardassians full speed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kira and Paska finally reach Dahka, but getting into the city might be just as hard as getting there.

There were, Kira thought, considerable advantages to basing your resistance cell out in the remote, largely uninhabited areas of the Bajoran countryside. For one, the Dahkur hills provided cover and the cave systems were a solid place to keep a base hidden from the Cardassians. After all, that was the primary reason the Shakaar resistance cell had camped out there to begin with.

The region also benefited the resistance since, as it was uninhabited, there was little worry about informants or collaborators reporting them or their actions to the Cardassians. That certainly made for a nice break from the suspicion and paranoia of Dahka. And, inside the cave systems at least, the resistance had a degree more freedom of movement than they did in most other camps or hideouts.

Of course, thought Kira, in terms of advantages, those were about it. The remoteness also meant it was nearly impossible to find food, they were largely cut off from contact with other resistance cells, they were too remote to act against most Cardassian outposts (not that they had the resources to do that anyways, what with the chronic shortages that had finally driven them to seek shelter in the caves), and to get the benefits of the region they had to spend all of their time huddled inside the cramped, dark, often damp caves to avoid sensor sweeps. And—most pressing at this point—once you have exiled yourself to a remote corner of the world, making your way back to the occupied areas takes forever.

Kira rolled her eyes and repressed a groan at this train of thought. She and R5 and Paska had been traveling to Dahka on foot for six days. _Well, at least we’re getting there. Hopefully, we’ll be in Dahka within another day or two._ And thankfully there had been no more encounters with the Cardassians since their first day of travel.

“How much farther do we have to go?” asked Paska, almost seeming to pull the train of Kira’s thoughts from her mind.

They had stopped for the evening next to a small creek and tucked themselves into the shelter provided by the thin, spindly trees that grew on its shore. Paska’s ration packs were holding, although Kira was carefully keeping track of how many they were consuming each day and how many they had left.

The thought of Ornak and Mobara, who only had the few packs Paska had given them before they parted on their first attempt to reach Dahka, flitted through Kira’s mind as she tucked into her own meal. She hoped they had found another food source.

“Not that much further,” Kira said, finally. She took another bite of her ration pack and chewed thoughtfully. “We probably only have a day or so more to go. The trick is going to be getting into the city. The Cardassians have it locked down pretty tight.”

“What’s the problem? I didn’t have any problem getting out."

Kira laughed. “Oh, sure. They’ll let you leave if you don’t look too valuable and so long as you keep your head down and don’t look like you’re running from something. So long as you don’t catch their attention, you’re fine.” She shrugged, “Then again, I’m a little surprised they didn’t try to grab you for a work gang, you look better fed than most folks and while they’ll usually take what they can get for forced labor you’re the kind they want.”

At the somewhat stricken look on Paska’s face, she pressed on. “But, as I was saying. The real trick is getting in. There’s a lot of stuff the Cardassians want to protect in Dahka. Government buildings, the local military headquarters, a couple of the major factories. Plus,” Kira grinned, all teeth, “That’s where they live. The important ones. The Cardassians who run the province, the high ranking ones, they live in the city. They want to keep us out, out where we can’t get to them. _But they can’t.”_

Paska flinched at the harsh, gleeful inflection in Kira’s voice, at her smile, at the sharp glint in her eyes. “I see,” he said, quietly.

He cleared his throat. “So, then, what’s the plan?”

Kira took a deep breath, trying to refocus on the problem at hand. The anger and excitement were pushed to the background as she focused on the rough, gritty feel of the rock beneath her hand and on the chalky taste of the ration bar lingering in her mouth.

“Well,” she finally said, “There are two ways to get in and out of the city. The main method is to go through the security checkpoints. That’s probably how you got out to begin with.”

At Paska’s nod she continued. “Well, the difficulty with that is that I’m not exactly dressed for it,” she gestured towards her phaser rifle, “Which I can hide, but I’m reluctant to risk a search. And while we both have false papers there’s a real risk they won't hold up under scrutiny. So the alternative is we sneak in along the perimeter.”

“The perimeter with mines and guards and barbed wire?”

“No, the other one. Yes, that perimeter.”

“I see. And how exactly do you plan to get past the mines and the guards and the barbed wire, if I may ask?”

“Carefully. Very carefully.”

Paska frowned. “I see,” he said, sounding unconvinced.

Kira relented. “The resistance has set up routes in and out of the city, safe passages through the minefield, places where there are gaps in the wire, where the patrols have blind spots. It’s just going to be a matter of finding a path that’s still secure then sneaking across.”

“Ah, oh, I see."

“Despite our current tactical setbacks, the resistance does actually know what it’s doing.”

“Oh, no, I never meant to imply-”

Kira laughed, the sound echoing in the quiet country air. At Paska’s confused expression she just shook her head and went back to finish up her meal. His frequent bumbling awkwardness was amusing on occasion, she had to admit, but was increasingly losing its charm.

She wanted to get back on the road soon. They were getting so close to Dahka, she was impatient to see who else had made it. And to get R5 back to Mobara. The long trek was wearing on the astromech and, while she could do some minor repairs, no one took care of R5 like Mobara.

 

The closer they got to Dahka the more visible the signs of occupation became. Land cleared of vegetation, increased military presence, frequent forced labor parties marching down the road under guard. It became harder and harder to keep out of sight and they frequently abandoned the formal roads to avoid being seen.

A few miles outside the city Kira halted the party, taking refuge in a hollow in the landscape behind a few large boulders.

“What is it?” Paska asked as she knelt down, dropping her pack to the ground and pulling out spare items of clothing which she then placed out in front of her.

“We’re getting close,” said Kira as she began, quickly and methodically, to disassemble her phaser rifle, carefully wrapping each part in one of the cloth pieces before tucking them back into her pack. “There are a few resistance sympathizers who live outside the city, I want to try and make contact before we try and cross into Dahka. But we’ll be seen by Cardassians, and other Bajorans when we try and find them, so we need to at least try and look like civilians when we do.” She flashed a quick grin at him before returning to finish fastening her pack.

“Right, of course,” said Paska, “Is there anything I should do?”

Kira turned to look at him and paused to think for a moment. “Just keep your head down and don’t say anything unless you’re asked a direct question,” she said finally. “Just let me do the talking.”

At Paska nodded and Kira turned to give R5 a quick once-over. Droids weren’t that common on Bajor, outside of the factories and areas of heavy industry, or those that served the Cardassian military or civil administration. Droids had never been common on Bajor, and now only agricultural droids remained of the pre-occupation vintage. Astromechs like R5 were a rare sight, and Kira wanted to make sure that sight was going to be unobtrusive as possible as they walked under the Cardassians noses.

Cosmetically, R5 wasn’t in great shape, which was good, Kira acknowledged, covered in dirt and dings, and its (forged) registration papers would reveal nothing of interest to any curious authorities. Mobara had made sure of that. That would have to do. Satisfied, she set off, headed towards the main road into Dahka.

“So we’re just going to walk right in, then?” Paska asked, his voice quiet in Kira’s ear as he nervously pressed up against her shoulder as they walked down the edge of the thoroughfare, passing two Cardassians and a Bajoran forced labor detail going the other way.

“Not all the way into Dahka, no, but into the surrounding areas? Yes,” Kira said quietly before dodging out of the way of a Cardassian speeder. The driver’s angry shout floated back at them as he sped away but, after pausing to ensure no other retribution was forthcoming, Kira continued. “There’s no way to sneak through this, it’s too well populated to avoid being seen, so we just have to make sure we aren’t noticed.”

The area around Dahka was like one big semi-permanent camp, filled with refugees, forced laborers, and Cardassian soldiers, all sorts except for those who intended to stay put.

The forced laborers came through on their way to the industrial farms or heavy industry factories of the province, or, more rarely, when some Cardassian commander out in the depths of the Dahkur hills decide their personal little fiefdom needed someone to work it. The refugees came through fleeing the forced labor battalions or looking for shelter having been dispossessed of their farms, headed, if they were lucky, to the homes of relatives still in possession of some degree of autonomy, or, if they were not, to one of the refugee camps scattered throughout Bajor. Kira didn’t particularly care why the Cardassians were there, only that they were and that that was unacceptable. Unfortunately, they seemed to be the only group remotely pleased with their lot.

Kira’s resistance contacts, however, fit neatly into none of these categories. Originally, perhaps, they were refugees, come to the region fleeing the Cardassians elsewhere. Unlike the majority of those, who swiftly moved on from the grime and the chaos of the Dahka slums to the slightly more orderly and permanent grime of the refugee camps, the class to which the resistance contacts belonged was instead comprised of those who elected to stay, perhaps out of the desire to take advantage of the slums economic opportunities, perhaps out of sheer weariness and the disinclination to continue on.

Kira ducked into one of the makeshift-made-permanent shelters, stooped head scraping at the corrugated metal roof, relieved to be out of the wind even if the room’s thin walls did little for the cold. The room’s lone occupant looked up through the smoky haze. “Ah, Cepel! My dear, how have you been!” The jocular voice boomed in the small space, a sharp contrast to the muffled din outside.

“I’m well,” said Kira with a small laugh as the older woman crossed the room and wrapped her in a firm hug. “And how are you? Not too much trouble, I hope?”

“Pah, I’m fine,” the woman said, ignoring Paska, still blinking as his eyes adjusted to the low light, sent Kira a quick look of alarm as he found himself similarly engulfed. “No one bothers me, why would they? I’m just the little old rag seller. No one to be concerned about. But you on the other hand?” she drew back and gave Kira a pointed look, “You keep dangerous company, my dear.”

Kira inclined her head slightly but only said, “Still, I am well, by the will of the Prophets. And we come to request your help.”

“Oh? And what can an old woman do to aid two fine young people in these dark times?”

“We need to get into Dahka,” said Paska, quickly cut off as Kira elbowed him in the stomach.

“If you have any information to help us get in unnoticed, it would be greatly appreciated,” Kira quickly amended.

The woman laughed. It was a bright, harsh sound, jarring in the dim, muffled darkness of the room. “It always is with you lot, always sneaking around, trying to stay out of sight. Until, of course, you don’t. That’s the difference between you and regular folk. We try and stay out of sight all the time, you all try and stay out of sight nearly all the time, until of course you go and blow something up. More trouble than, you’re worth, the lot of you.”

Kira and Paska both stiffened at her final remark, braced to make a break for the door. “Oh, relax,” said the woman, “Let an old woman her ramblings.” She winked at them. “Them lot in the garrison do, and doesn’t that get me a nice bit of leeway. I know you lot do important work.”

Kira relaxed a fraction and eventually, Paska did the same. Both remained standing, and alert to any sign of Cardassian encroachment, however.

“So, you want to get into Dahka?” asked the woman, returning to her seat on the only stool in the room, an upturned crate really, “I can get you into Dahka.” She grinned and stared Kira straight in the eyes. “For a price, naturally.”

“Naturally,” said Kira.

“What do you have to offer?”

“Ration packs.” She lay a restraining hand on Paska’s arm and squeezed tightly as he opened his mouth to protest.

The old woman snorted. “Ration packs. Humph. That’ll do. I’ll be wanting to examine them beforehand, though, no deal if they’re spoilt.”

“Fair enough,” said Kira, “What’s our way in.”

“You won’t be able to get through the footpaths, the Cardassian's been laying new mines and doubled up on their foot patrols. No one’s been able to clear a safe path through yet.”

“Damn it.”  
“We’ve been getting folks through the main gate disguised as part of the slave labor details—that’s tricky, though—or as free workers and refugees. The trick’ll be getting you decent papers, but we’ve got good people. Those, plus a disguise, you’ll be fine.”  
Kira nodded, looking at the old woman appraisingly. “You all have gotten more ambitious since the last time we met.”

The old women let out another of her loud cackles. “We had to, my dear. Them lot’ve been breathing down folks’ backs more and more every day, squeezing Bajor for all we’ve got. And they hounded you lot out into the hills, so there’s been no one left to look out for us here. Not that there was much you could do to begin with, nothing against you but for most folks that’s the truth. So we just did what we had to do.” She turned her smile to Paska. “You think me a mercenary, don’t you, my dear. And maybe you’re right. But what me and my lot do, folks need it. You do. Or you wouldn’t be here.”

Paska gave a shaky nod and Kira and the old woman finished up the details of the agreement. They agreed to meet back in the little room the next day to finalize the transaction.

He blinked as Kira led him back through the curtained doorway into the gray light of the street. “What? What were you . . . what was . . . what?” he asked, stumbling after her as she hurried down the rutted lane, tripping over the thick, irregular paving of semi-frozen mud. His discombobulated brain finally settled on “you can’t just barter away my things.”

Kira stopped and turned to face him as she waited for him to catch up. “Well, she wasn’t going to help us for nothing.” She paused, even as they resumed their pace, seeming to wait for Paska to respond. When he finally nodded, she went on. “I didn’t have anything to bargain with, you did. And you need her help just as much as I do. More, even. She’s going to use her network to see if anyone has a line on your friend.”

“Oh.”

“Missed that bit, did you?” she turned and ducked down another of the shanty-alleyways “If your friend passes through here, these are the people who would know about it."

They continued along the narrow, winding, unpaved streets between the ramshackle buildings and the occasional cluster of tents, buffeted by the wind. Out in the hills it had been cold, but here around Dahka, down in a valley, the winds howled through the settlement, rattling metal roofs and threatening to tear tent-steaks from the muddy ground. It stabbed at any exposed skin and bit down to the bone, and both Kira, Paska, and those they passed on the street alike hunched fruitlessly against its advances.

Finally, Kira halted in front of yet another unremarkable metal shack. She knocked on the wall next to the open doorway, the hollow metal banging echoing mutely. They stepped inside when a voice inside called out, “Come in,” Paska politely trying to scrape the ever-present mud off his boots on an imaginary doormat.

“Come in, come in,” the man inside hurried them into the single room hut, nervously checking outside before hanging a tattered piece of sackcloth over the opening and turning to face the new arrivals. “Please, sit down,” he said, gesturing to a pair of upturned boxes low on the floor as he moved back over to the camp stove across the room, “You’re late. I was getting worried”

“It took me a while to find this place,” Kira said as she and Paska moved to sit, “Things have shifted around since the last time I was here.”

“Still, it’s good you found us when you did. It’s not good to wander around after dark.” The man handed Kira and Paska dishes of the soup he had been working on over on the camp stove. Kira rook hers with a murmur of thanks, wrapping her hands around the thin, dented metal of the cup and breathing in the steam.

The warmth seeped into her fingers, numb from the cold, but the smell reminded her of the more unpleasant parts of her childhood in the refugee camps. She took a sip and restrained a grimace. Watered down and filled with slightly off vegetables. Familiar. But she would not protest the hospitality.

Kira glanced over at Paska, to see how he was handling the meal. Uncharacteristically, he appeared to have restrained any commentary and was sipping his soup slowly but methodically.

The man had dished up the remainder of the soup and sat down near the stove. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness in the room, Kira realized the box the man was crouched over was not empty, rather it was functioning as a bassinet. As Kira watched, the man began to try and feed the baby the broth from the soup.

She looked over at Paska. He was staring at the man and the baby too. As though he felt her gaze, he turned to face her. Behind his eyes, Kira saw a hundred questions raced by, but to her surprise, he didn’t voice any of them. He only asked softly “When do we leave for Dahka?”

“Early tomorrow morning.” Kira took another sip of her soup. “We’ll head back, finalize the deal, and hopefully get in sometime before midmorning.”

Paska nodded and looked down at his soup. “What . . .?” he started to ask and then trailed off.

“What?” asked Kira, “What is it.”

Paska looked up, back at the man and the baby before looking back down at his soup. “Nothing,” he said, “Nevermind. It’s nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the big gap between updates! But I should have another chapter up before too long, so hopefully that helps make up for it.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning Kira and Paska woke before dawn. It took Kira a good ten minutes to help R5 get going. The droid had spent the night hibernating in low power mode next to the small stove in the hopes of preventing its internal circuitry from freezing. The exertions of the past weeks had not been kind to R5, and Kira new they needed to get to good shelter and more supplies soon, for all of their sakes.

With R5 more or less operational, and another quick helping of the hot, thin soup from the night before for the two biological members of the party, they bid their quick thanks and goodbyes to their host and headed out into the quiet, frozen, early morning streets. They retraced their steps from the night before in silence until Paska finally asked “Is that what it’s like? Here on Bajor. Is that what it’s like, for people?”

Kira halted her brisk pace and inhaled deeply. Her breath billowed in the sharp morning air as she slowly let it out. “Do you mean last night? The man and the baby, and the cold, and the terrible soup?”

At Paska’s nod she continued. “Yes. For a lot of Bajorans, yes life is like that.” She slowly moved to continue on their way. “Some have it worse, of course. Some have it better. Some have it a lot better, if they collaborate.” She almost spits the last words, venom filling her voice, but continued, again calmer after a moment. “How well individuals fare can vary and turn on all kinds of factors, on the weather, on the whims of the local Cardassians, on the will of the Prophets. But,” she said looking pointedly at Paska, “If you’re asking if last night was a typical example of life for Bajorans under Cardassian occupation, yes, you could say that.”

“I see,” said Paska, his voice quiet and subdued.

“Were you expecting something different?”

“I just . . . I don’t know.” Paska seemed more withdrawn now than in all the time Kira had known him, more restrained. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as if he felt he had something important to say but exactly what it was eluded him. 

“I don’t know what I expected,” he seemed to finally settle on, “I have no practical prior experience with this sort of situation, and archive study can only tell you so much. I suppose,” he paused again but quickly pressed on, “I suppose I had expected I had already seen the worst of the occupation. I’ve been on Bajor for over two months and in that time I have seen many of the cruelties inflicted by the occupation. I suppose last night I simply realized the folly in this line of thinking. I suspect I have only just begun to see the occupations’ true horror.”

“I rather suspect you’re right about that.”

They soon reached the rickety shack where they had met the old woman the day before. With a quick knock on the doorframe, they ducked inside and found themselves greeted by the sight of a trio of seated Bajorans, two men and a woman, all, by the look of their clothing and large bundles at their feet, part of the ever growing refugee community.

“Ah, there you are,” said the old woman, hurrying over and pressing hot cups of something into their hands. Kira took a sip and tried to restrain a grimace. 

Something was right, other than hot the beverage was indescribable. 

“Right, have a seat.” The woman ushered them over to upturned boxes on the opposite end of the room from the group of refugees. Not that it gave them that much privacy, the two groups were only separated by a distance of two or three feet in the cramped space.

“We can get you into the city,” said the woman, sitting down next to Kira. She wiped her hands off on her pant legs before reaching into her jacket pocket and pulling out two sheets of crumpled flimsi which she flattened out and handed to Kira and Paska.

Kira looked down at the tattered sheet. It’s header proclaimed it to be from the office of the Dahkur Province office of the Cardassian Occupation Authority’s Office of Bajoran Labor, and the text underneath explained that the holder, one Cepel Hesa, had the permission of the Cardassian authorities to enter Dahka in order to fill a needed position as a skilled laborer. Kira glanced over at Paska’s flimsi and found it read much the same. She folded the flimsi and slipped it into her pocket, along with the datacard the women had passed her along with it. That would bear inspection later. 

She looked up at the old woman and nodded. It was good work. Kira then reached over to Paska’s pack and pulled out a dozen of the ration packs she had selected and carefully arranged the night before. She lined them up on one of the upturned crates in front of the woman, who picked one up and began to carefully inspect it. She ran her fingers around the vacuum seal, and checked for any tears or other damages slowly, repeating the process for each pack.

Paska had begun to look between Kira and the woman anxiously by the time she was done, but Kira was nearly holding her breath the entire time. A good contact was invaluable in the resistance, and she didn’t want the deal to go south. Then again, as good a contact as the rag seller had always been for the Shakaar resistance cell, Kira equally hoped the woman would not demand more packs as payment—Paska only had so many left and with food as scarce as it was she was reluctant to part with any more than was strictly necessary.  
Finally, the woman sat back and nodded. “It’s a good trade,” she said, gathering up the packs, “A pleasure doing business with you, as always.” After tucking the precious rations away she gestured over to the other three Bajorans clustered across the room. “You will be traveling into the city with them. They are also going to Dahka seeking work.” 

The trio nodded at Paska and Kira, who nodded back. Neither group said anything to the other. The only noise in the small room came from the old woman, who was now bustling around, asking if anyone wanted another cup of the hot drink before they set off. All five accepted. The beverage may have been incredibly unpalatable, but it was hot and it was incredibly cold out.

After gulping down the last dregs of their scalding drinks and bidding a polite farewell to the old woman, the party set out into the bitterly cold morning. The three unknown Bajorans lead the way, talking quietly among themselves. Kira and Paska followed, with R5 between them. 

Kira kept her eyes on the backs of the man in front of her, the tallest of the group, as they wound their way through the streets, which were quickly growing crowded as the slums denizens rose and hurried out to work, or to scrounge or food. None of the other party had offered names or other introductions, and Kira hadn’t asked. In these sorts of things it really was best to know as little as possible.

The group slowed as they reached the Cardassian military checkpoint guarding the entryway into the city. A line had already formed, despite the early hour, and they took their place at the end. 

As the line shuffled closer and closer to the guardhouse and it's waiting inspection officer, Kira felt the knot in her stomach tighten. She glanced down the long, foreboding line of the perimeter fence, and at the guards, up atop the watchtowers and dotted along the border, clustered more frequently closer to the checkpoint. The area she was standing in now, between the outer slums and the border, was open, not that far but still. There was little cover. Nothing but mud and ice and wisps of snow. 

And worse still, beyond the checkpoint, the flat, gaping expanse between the outer fence and the inner one, where, outside of this one protected corridor the ground was laced with minefields, that had to be walked through, slowly, calmly, before passing through an additional checkpoint and being allowed into the city on the other side. Sound roared in Kira’s ears and she wasn’t sure if it was the icy wind or her nervous pounding heart. 

Paska nudged her shoulder as the line moved forward. Kira snapped back to attention and moved forwards, nearly stumbling over R5 at her feet but catching herself just before she plowed into the back of her tall, unnamed traveling companion. As she steadied herself she looked forward at the line. They had nearly reached the checkpoint. Only two parties ahead of their group. The line shuffled forward. One party. And now.

Kira took a deep breath as the group stepped forward and settled her face into a carefully schooled expression of weariness. The tall man was talking to the Cardassian at the checkpoint. He’d taken all of their transit passes and had given them over, and was answering all of the official's questions. Kira carefully looked at the Cardassian official out of the corner of her eye while pretending to gaze blankly at the ground like everyone else was doing. The Cardassian looked young, tired, bored, and incredibly cold. _Good,_ thought Kira, though she carefully kept her thoughts off her face, _hopefully, he won’t be paying too much attention._

Another, small, vindictive part of her also took pleasure in how uncomfortable the official and all of the soldiers standing at the checkpoint looked. _That’s the Bajoran winter for you._

Her attention turned back to the tall, unnamed man talking with the border guard. He was tucking the travel passes back into his coat pocket and nodding at something the guard said. Then he walked the few steps back over to the group and they were waved through the checkpoint.

Kira inhaled a shaky breath as she stepped through the gate. The guards up in their towers, and down on the ground only feet away from her, stood lazily, their phaser rifles slung over their shoulders. None of them payed the nondescript party of Bajorans any mind.

The group squelched through the ankle deep mud as quickly as they could without drawing attention to themselves. R5 had particular trouble, and Kira and Paska did their best to help the droid across the no man's land. When they reached the far checkpoint Kira once again held her breath, but the guards on the other side waved them through without bothering to check their papers.

Past the checkpoint and in Dahka the head of the trio of workers handed Kira and Paska their transit papers back and the two groups split, the silent, unknown trio off to find work and Kira, Paska, and R5 to hopefully find some sign of the Shakaar resistance cell.

Kira led Paska down one of the narrow, winding back alleys of Dahka’s commercial district. “Where are we going now?” he asked, “Did you get any information about my master?”

Kira ducked into a doorway and pulled Paska in after her. “We’re going someplace safe, I hope. Then we can hopefully resupply, try and contact my friends, and then try and track down your master.” She stuck her head back into the alley and looked up and down to see that no one was within earshot. “But right now I need you to stop talking and follow my lead. The city is crawling with Cardassians and spies and informants, and if you don’t keep quiet we’ll both end up in a lot of trouble real fast.” 

Paska nodded, and Kira stepped back into the alleyway and continued walking. Dahka had not weathered the years of occupation well, and the tall brick and stone buildings were coated in the grime of neglect and intense industrial manufacture. 

Eventually, Kira stopped in front of an unremarkable building, windows shuttered and the door locked, with the same grime and aura of disrepair as the rest of the neighborhood. A sign above the boarded over front display window simply read ‘Repairs’ in bold lettering.

Kira pushed some of the junk that had acquired in the doorway aside and punched in an access code. After checking the empty street for observers, she ushered Paska and R5 inside. The door led to a wide open, empty room, what would have been the shop front had the building been in use. Across the room and through another door in the back was a flight of stairs, at the top of which, at the end of a long hallway, was another room. 

Kira punched in the access code to this room, and the door slid open. The safe room was just how it ought to be, untouched from how she remembered it when she helped set it up a year and a half ago. 

The room was spare, with only a small cot, a table and chair, and a trunk shoved into the corner as furnishings. They entered the room and Paska sat down on the cot as R5 headed over to the corner and immediately plugged into the socket and initiated a recharge cycle with a relieved beep.

Kira went over to the trunk and keyed it open. The top layer of contents were innocuous but welcome: clean clothes, a few ration packs, toiletries, and even a few old holonovels someone had scrounged up. Underneath, hidden in the trunk’s false bottom, the contents were far less innocent but no less welcome. Kira pulled out two precious power packs and placed them on the table next to the stacked personal items. She left the medkit in the trunk, but she also pulled out an encrypted communicator from the secret compartment before re-assembling the trunk.

She quickly went through the pile of clothing and pulled a few things out before tossing them at Paska, who caught them awkwardly. “‘Fresher’s through there,” Kira said, gesturing at the door across from the one they had entered through. “There should be a sonic shower, so you can get yourself clean and into some fresh clothes, and when you’re done we’ve got stuff to clean your teeth, so you can do that too.

Paska nodded and, leaving his pack on the floor by the cot, headed into the ‘fresher. Kira sat down at the table and, pushing the pile of supplies out of her way, turned her attention to the communicator. 

The communicators the resistance left in its safe houses were wiped clean—although they were heavily encrypted, and the encryptions were those used by the cell, there was no data, no com numbers, no nothing, that would allow the Cardassians to track the resistance if they found one of the safe houses and the supplies they contained. The system also required cell members to memorize an array of com codes to use in a range of situations, since the communicators didn’t store the codes and it would be dangerous for individuals to carry the same communicator for two long. 

Kira frowned in concentration as she carefully typed in the com code for ‘Non-Emergency, Re-Establish Communication with Command’ and held her breath. The communicator clicked faintly as the encryptions ran and the link established. She exhaled in a loud ‘whoosh’ as the call went through. 

Working quickly she tapped out the codes that would tell Lupaza, or Furel, or Shakaar, or whoever was on the other end of the line who she was, where she was, and her request to make contact with the rest of the cell. A few tense moments and the reply came through: _Hold current position. Contact will arrive shortly._ Kira allowed herself a wide smile. 

The sound from the ‘fresher shut off and Paska came back into the room. Freshly attired in the clean clothes from the safe house, he crossed the room and sat cross legged on the cot. “Any news?” he asked.

“I made contact with my friends.”

“That’s great!”

“Someone should be here soon, we can go from there once they brief us on the situation.” 

“The situation?”

“I don’t know what’s been going on, do you? There’s a lot of questions that need to be answered. What’s going on with the Cardassians? How did they find my group? What about the Sith? What’s the situation in the city?” _What happened to the rest of the cell? Is everyone all okay? Who made it out?_ Kira left the final three questions unsaid.

“Ah. I see.” Paska shifted on the cot. “About that, did you get any information about my master from your contact?”

Kira reached into her pocket and pulled out a data-chip. The old woman had slipped it to her along with the false travel papers that morning. She handed it to Paska. “That’s what I got. I haven’t looked at it. But I would like to see it when you’re done. There’s a reader in the chest.”

Paska nodded as he took the chip. “Thank you. I really appreciate this. I owe you.”

“Yes, you do. But wait until you see what’s on there before you make too many promises.”

Paska turned back to the chip and Kira headed to the ‘fresher. “If someone knocks while I’m in the shower, don’t answer the door. Come and get me.” Paska raised an eyebrow at her words. “They won’t know you and you don’t know them. Or the code phrases. Wouldn’t want you getting shot, or accidentally letting Cardassian plants into the safe house.”

With that, Kira shut herself in the ‘fresher. The safe house didn’t have a water shower—hard to find and conspicuous to install items were not something you wanted leading to your secure, undisclosed hideaways—but after weeks on the run and months in a remote and dubiously wired cave system, even the sonic shower was wonderful.

Clean hair, clean clothes, and clean teeth later Kira returned to the main room of the safe house to find Paska, stretched out on the cot, absorbed in the contents of the data-chip she had given him. 

“Anything interesting?” she asked.

“Hmmm? Oh,” said Paska, looking up, “Yes, well, a bit. You might be able to make more sense of it than I can.”

Kira walked the few steps over to stand beside him and held her hand out for the padd. She had only read the first few sentences when a loud knock echoed through the room. Motioning for Paska to stay seated, Kira moved over to the door and turned on the screen displaying the security feed from the other side of the door.

She smiled at the sight of two familiar faces and triggered the door mechanism. As it slid open it revealed Lorit, one of Kira’s oldest resistance contacts, and Furel, who broke into a wide smile at the sight of her and swept Kira into a smothering hug the moment he pushed through the doorway.

“You made it!” he said, “I’m so glad to see you!”

“Me too,” Kira murmured, smiling into his shoulder as she hugged him back just as tight, “Me too.”


End file.
